


The Ready-Made Family

by NegansOtherWife



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Babies, Breastfeeding, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Feels, Gentle Kissing, Gentle Negan (Walking Dead), Negan's a father, Parenthood, Pregnancy, Reader-Insert, Smut, Sweet Negan (Walking Dead)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-01-12 22:05:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 28,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18455528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NegansOtherWife/pseuds/NegansOtherWife
Summary: Negan, a newly-single father, is having issues with his daughter and you have just what he needs —  and maybe even a little more.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> you guys know that whenever i have a full-length story i get itchy. i need to write something funny/fluffy to balance out the angst. tada! honestly, i don't have a plot so we'll just see where this goes. x

“She won’t latch.”

Startled, you look up from your book. Up until moments ago, you’d been immersed in your novel, nestled beneath your favorite tree in the Sanctuary’s courtyard. His proximity is unnerving, but the sight of Negan with a baby is even more intriguing and overrides the budding nerves in your chest. 

“I’m sorry?” 

“She won’t latch onto a bottle,” He repeated, taking a step closer. “I know this is a fucked up request, but shit — I’ve tried practically everything and according to Carson you’re the only woman to give birth in the last year.”

The bundle in his arms whimpered a low, pathetic sound that made your heart twinge. You looked down at your son who was in the process of nursing from your breast, seemingly oblivious to the tension rolling off of Negan in waves. 

“You want me to…” Your words trailed, the uncertainty dripping from every syllable. “Where’s her mother?”

The baby in his arms whimpered louder, tugging at your heartstrings in an unmissable way. You’d been a mother for less than a month, but really, you’d been indulging in your maternal instincts since you were six. With a soft sigh, you held out your arm in invitation. 

“Thank fuck,” He breathed. “I’ll make sure you’re compensated for this — I promise.”

“That would be nice,” You admitted.

Being a single mother at the Sanctuary had been difficult, especially having to cut back hours in the garden to care for your baby. You needed the points for diapers, and there was a bassinet you’d had your eye on for the past month at the consignment store. 

Everyone wins. 

He knelt carefully in front of you, placing the baby in your arms. 

“What’s her name?” You softly cooed, marveling at the small, delicate face contorted into an expression of discontent. He undid her swaddle, and her tiny fists immediately balled, rubbing at her mouth. 

She was hungry. 

“I’m not sure if she’ll latch on to me; I’m not her mother.” You continued, carefully maneuvering your son on your other breast when he grunted from being jostled. “Um, my hands are full. You’ll have to pull my top down and guide my breast into her mouth.”

He grunted acknowledgment, his eyes trained solely on his daughter’s face. The thought relaxed you slightly as you reminded yourself that this was purely for his daughter’s benefit. You were familiar with the anxiety that had settled beneath his eyes in bags, heavy and dark, no doubt he felt the inadequacy that came with being a new parent. 

“I fucking appreciate this,” he muttered, unlatching the other strap of your linen overalls to bare your other breast. Negan didn’t linger, instead cupping the underside carefully and guiding your nipple into the baby’s gaping mouth. She latched on eagerly, her small hand resting on the swell of your breast as she nursed, going lax against your chest as the tension left her tiny body. 

“There we go, pumpkin.” He softly cooed to her, dropping his hand.

“Thank you,” You told him, watching as he placed the blanket beneath his daughter, so it leveled her with your breast and took some of the strain off your back. 

It was odd having two babies nurse from your breasts at the same time, immediately you compared yourself to a milk machine before dashing the idea away. If it meant you could help the little girl in your arms, then it was worth the discomfort. 

Negan snorted, settling back on his knees and finally making eye contact. “I think I’m the one who should be saying that being as you’re the one with a tit in my daughter’s mouth. Her name’s Clementine, by the way.” He reached out, stroking the dark downy hair on her head.

As if recognizing her name, her eyelids fluttered open, studying you intently with wide blue eyes. They were a stark contrast from the dark brown irises your son had. 

“The baby on my other tit is Ben, and I’m Y/N.” Even to your ears, your laugh sounded nervous. “I’ve never introduced myself to a man with my top around my waist, especially in public.”

He gave a tired laugh, keeping his eye on his daughter as he took a seat directly to your left. Clementine’s eyes flickered to her father’s face before returning to yours, intensely suckling. She was surprisingly alert for a newborn.  

“This shouldn’t take more than twenty minutes; Ben doesn’t even take that long when he’s hungry. Babies, they’re so unpredictable — aren’t they?” Why were you rambling? Other than the obvious topless situation in front of your community leader, breastfeeding was nothing to be ashamed about. 

“I know that I haven’t gotten out much these past couple of weeks, but I wasn’t aware that you had a baby.” You said in lure of making conversation. 

“Neither was I.” He left it at that, roughly raking a hand through his hair with a distant look in his eyes. 

You’d only ever seen Negan from afar, always so dark and full of bravado — and always with Lucille over his shoulder. To see him look so dejected and exhausted…well, it was like looking in a mirror. 

Parenthood. 

In your arms, Ben stretched and yawned, a drunken smile on his face as he settled deeper into slumber. On your other breast, Clementine steadily nursed. You were quite literally juggling a handful of babies. Negan seemed to sense your situation. 

“You want me to burp him?” He offered, hands outstretched. “It’s the least I can do.”

“If you don’t mind.”

This might have been the first time someone had offered to help with your baby. 

“You’re about the only one right now, besides her, that could have me eating out the palm of your hand.” He motioned to Clementine who watched you both with wide eyes, her little brow furrowed. "If you asked me to bend over I'd say which hole and when."

“Um, I’m flattered," You offered him the baby with pursed lips. "I won’t abuse my power though.”

He took Ben into his large hands, against his best efforts waking the baby who then eyed him with a look of vague curiosity. You quickly covered your now free breast, mindful of the courtyard that had now become much busier. It must have been the lunch rush as others had started to trickle out the Sanctuary’s front door, settling in the tall grass to eat lunch.

“I can’t believe that Ben used to be this tiny. Such a pretty girl,” You commented, marveling at Clemintine's outfit, a floral printed romper, and teeny-tiny socks. “I know I can barely handle the one that I’ve got, but she’s seriously tempting. I could eat her up.”

You made funny faces until the corner of Clementine’s mouth lifted upward, lightly tickling the bottom of her foot.

“Oh, look at you! Such a happy baby, aren't you? Negan, did you see that?” You cut yourself off, embarrassed that you’d gotten so carried away. It was the hormones. “What?”

“Nothing,” Negan smirked, biting his lip as he resumed the firm circles on Ben’s back until he hiccupped, a much larger burp following shortly after. “Damn, kid. You’ve got some pipes on you.”

As he carried on with your son, you tried to tell yourself that it was the smile on Ben’s face as he glowed underneath Negan’s praise or even the unusually sunny weather, but it most definitely wasn’t Negan who’d just made your heart skip a beat, all rumpled and worried over his ‘pumpkin.’

Damn hormones. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visit in the middle of the night brings forth a shaky pact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> completely overwhelmed by the response to this story! thank you, thank you! x

It’s only the same night that there’s a sudden pounding at your door. In his cradle, Ben grunted yet stayed blissfully unaware of the disturbance. It wasn’t unusual for the Sanctuary’s hallways to be noisy, especially so late at night. You were just thankful that Ben was a relatively good sleeper and never one to fuss.

Quickly, you trudged to the door, a growing protest on your lips for whatever drunken idiot had mistaken your room for theirs this time. Seconds later, the protest stalled on your tongue, the piercing cry of a baby finally registering with your sleep muddled brain. 

The dampness on your shirt made you look down, and you studied the twin stains in fascination.

You were leaking. 

“Negan?” You blinked, opening the door. “Is she hungry again?”

“What do you fucking think?” 

His harshness made you take a step back. Here was the man you recognized, always so quick-tempered and overflowing with biting sarcasm. Negan's expression softened, no doubt registering the fear in your eyes. 

It wasn’t his intention to scare you. 

“Shit — I’m sorry, Y/N.” He bounced Clementine in his arms, looking every part the exhausted parent that you were. It’s clear he’d been sleeping before he’d been awoken, dressed in gingham sleep pants and a black t-shirt. You could relate. “I’ve been up for hours and it’s just that—”

“It’s fine,” You quickly cut him off, taking Clementine and motioning him into your small room. “Let me feed her and we can talk.”

Negan peered around the room with interest, kicking the door shut as you busied yourself with fetching a pillow and carefully climbing back into bed.

“Sit,” You urged, patting the empty space beside you while hurriedly lifting your shirt to nurse. “Sit down before you fall down. You look dead on your feet. Rough night?”

“Every night this week has been a rough night.” His words are hushed as he studied Ben still asleep in his crib with a wistful expression. “Had to bash someone’s head in yesterday because the bastard dropped something and woke her up.”

Ignoring his confession of committing murder, you carefully read between the lines, deciphering the meaning beneath his frustration. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing with him either, but I’m pretty sure that’s parenting.” A yawn escaped your mouth. “It’s nice to know I’m not the only one. You’re new at this and so am I, we’re not supposed to know what to do with them. It’s all trial and error.”

“You seem wiser than your age.” He noted, sinking heavily into your mattress with a resigned sigh. 

The simple exhalation let on more than he probably meant to express.  

“Motherhood,” You smiled encouragingly and you’re rewarded for your efforts when he returns it, albeit with a small tired one of his own. “Has it always been like this or only recently?” 

Clementine couldn’t have been older than Ben who was only a month old.

“She’s three weeks old.” A pause, and in the dim light filtering through the window you see the way his throat bobs as he swallowed hard. “Amber’s only been gone for a week, but before she left, she’d been breastfeeding Clem. I’m not sure if it’s the the taste of the formula or the bottle, but she doesn’t drink much of that shit. Carson said she’d lost too much weight at her appointment this morning. I had no choice but to come to you.” He confessed.

You think it’s partly because it’s dark in the room and you can barely see his face, but his humanity seemed to shine through, and to you he’s not a ruthless killer like his reputation precedes him. He’s like you — a single parent. 

“Of course, you didn’t.” Your hand reached for his in the dark, giving an offered squeeze before Clementine kicked at your breast in protest of the movement. “Sorry, munchkin. I guess you’re a little busy, aren’t you?”

She seemed to grunt her agreement, shutting her eyes after another side-eyed glance. 

“People tell me I talk too much and most days I forget to shower because of well…” You motioned to your breast. “I’m generally a mess, Negan, but if you can get over all that, I don’t mind helping you feed her. She shouldn’t have to go hungry because of an absent mother.”

You’re not sure what to make of his admission of Clementine’s mother leaving the Sanctuary. As far as you knew, no-one ever left the Sanctuary and lived to see another day. 

“Thank you, Y/N. It’s only temporary, at least until I send my men out to find a breast pump.” His eyes bounced from no particular spot to the next, studying the little trinkets sprinkled across the room. “You alone in here?”

“Just me and Ben,” You yawned again, your knee softly nudging Negan’s thigh as you stretched. “I take him to work with me since it’s just us, and the others in the garden don’t seem to mind.”

Negan scrubbed at his face tiredly, his tall figure slumping against the bed as the minutes dragged on and Clementine’s suckling never slowed. You fought the urge to close your eyes, instead patiently waiting until Negan gave in, giving you the opportunity to freely study his unguarded expression. 

You slowly rubbed Clementine’s back, carefully considering the deep frown her father wore even asleep and the greying at his temple. You stood with the baby in your arms, changing her wet diaper and placing her beside Ben in his crib. She turned her little head, gazing at Ben with a thoughtful expression. 

“Play nice, munchkin.” You softly kissed her nose unable to resist the temptation before placing one on Ben’s as well. “He’s bigger than you.”

Turning to your bed, you bit your lip, realizing that Negan had moved in his sleep and had taken more than half of the bed in the process. There’s a moment of hesitation before you make your decision, sliding beneath the warm sheets.

Your room had never been this _full_. The sounds of the babies and Negan’s soft breathing fill all the quiet places. It’s _home-y_ and familiar, like a distance memory you can’t quite recall; and as you drifted to sleep, you secretly feared that despite your best efforts, you’d crave this when it was gone. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the early hours, the lines begin to blur between comfort and capability.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a short chapter while i try to wrap my head around an actual plot. x

It was early in the morning when the feeling of cold air on your breast roused you further to the edge of consciousness.

A warm weight settled near your chest and something moved your arm, draping it across the small body now curled against your breast as it suckled softly. 

“Benny?” You mumbled, fighting with your eyes to open against the heavy veil of sleep that had settled there during the night.

“Ben’s still sleeping, its Clementine,” Negan murmured. “Go back to sleep, it’s still early.”

You hummed absentmindedly, eyes still closed as you drifted between planes of consciousness. You couldn’t recall a time when you’d slept so well. The sheets are pleasantly warm, Negan’s body heat staving off the naturally cold temperature of the factory. Most people spent the points on portable heaters, but you’d never been able to afford one. You intended to enjoy this and take advantage of the few minutes you had left before Ben woke up.

You’re only under for a mere handful of seconds, your thoughts muted and the warmth of the baby’s body the last thing keeping you tethered to the land of the living when you felt it. It’s so soft, the faintest touch, and you think that it might be Clementine moving as she eats.

Whatever it was, it tickled your breast just centimeters from where the baby nursed. Your eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the oppressive darkness as blurred lines became tangible objects. You’d fallen asleep on your side, a hand tucked beneath your head, but the other cradled Clementine’s back as she nursed. Negan’s doing. 

He's closer than you’d thought he’d been in your head, practically curled against your side, not quite touching but there isn’t a limb of yours that doesn’t barely brush his. His head is leveled with Clementine’s, giving you an obscured almost aerial perspective as you studied him from where your head was propped against a pillow.

His lips brushed against Clementine’s cheek which moved rhythmically while she ate, he seemed to be mouthing something but it wasn’t anything that reached your ears. Every other time that he moved, the times that your exhalation drew your chest forward, his nose brushed against the swell of your breast. 

The tip of his nose grazed your breast and he didn’t seem to mind it, but you minded. You had a penchant for overthinking and tended to air on the side of dramatics in most scenarios. 

All scenarios. 

This scenario.

When you closed your eyes you could feel the warm puffs of air every time he exhaled, practically picture what it would look like if his head bent just a little forward, pink lips brushing against your bare skin. 

He couldn’t know that you were awake, he hadn’t been looking. For once, you held the upper hand.

Your eyes opened, chancing one more glance if only to take something with you when you fell asleep.

His green irises collided with yours, penetrating softly, prodding like droplets of rain hitting the soil minutes into a rainstorm. You can’t look away, not even if you wanted to.

Negan spoke first, his voice was low and gritty from sleep. 

“Are you cold?”

Licking your dry lips, you found your voice, realizing then that you’d been holding your breath. “Warm.” You whispered.

“Good.” He mumbled, keeping eye contact as he pressed a kiss to the crown of his daughter’s head.

Untethered, you gave yourself over to the insistent feeling of slumber. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the reader, it's the first day all over again.

In the morning, when the sun had begun to peak beyond the horizon, you rose and slowly dressed. It’s rehearsed, going through the motions, feeding Ben and eating a small breakfast simultaneously. What isn’t routine is the feeling of good rest and the confusion that sits low in your belly.

Had it happened?

As hard as you try to recall what could only have taken place hours before, the images became hazier. It has to be a dream brought on by Negan’s presence, and hormones. Always the hormones.

“Mommy’s going a little crazy, Ben. Or did it actually happen? Do you know something I don’t?” You asked, snapping his onesie closed and pulling on his bottoms. “Did Clementine say anything to you?”

Some, maybe most, would think that it was odd to be discussing your love life with your one-month-old son, but all the baby books had said that talking to your baby would help improve their development. So, in theory, you were excelling at parenting. 

Ben wrinkled his nose in response, chewing on his fist as he slurred out a whole line of gibberish. 

“You’re right,” You sighed. “I shouldn’t be obsessing over something that probably didn’t even happen and I should be focusing more on you. You’re my biggest responsibility.”

With your decision made up to put last nights dream into the metaphorical trash bin, you slipped on your baby wrap, situating Ben in the front pocket and securing the tie at your shoulder. Double checking that you had everything, including Ben’s sun hat and baby sunscreen, you slipped on your sandals and opened the door. 

“You’re up, finally.” 

“Me?” You asked.

You studied the woman that had been leaning against the adjacent wall to your room expectantly, her arms crossed, a stoic expression bordering on annoyed as she kicked forward ordering, “Follow me.”

“Excuse me?” You asked, following her hesitantly. “Where are we going?”

“Negan wants to see you.”

A woman of only a few words, she stayed silent the rest of the walk to Negan’s office, opening the door with a flourish and announcing your presence to the spacious room. Negan spun in his chair looking for the first time like his old self, fresh-faced and glowing. A smile touched your lips at the sight of the pink burp cloth over his shoulder and the pacifier handing off his finger. He lifted Clementine off his shoulder, turning her so that she could watch you approach. 

“Look at that, pumpkin,” he crooned, a tender smile on his face. “It’s your baby mama.”

“Hi, munchkin.” You waved, ignoring the stuttering in your chest because, you know, hormones. “You wanted to see me, Negan? Is she hungry ‘cause I have to be in the garden for the start of my shift and she doesn’t look hungry. Then again, babies are unpredictable. I’m reading a book about that, actually. Um, it’s called — _So You’re A Mom Now?_ Riveting, really.”

Rambling, you’re rambling.

“That’s what I needed to talk to you about, mama. Your tits and my daughter are a packaged deal. Where ever they go, she goes.” He indicated with a nod, asking you to sit. “You’ve met Arat.”

You peered over your shoulder to where Arat stood against the wall, looking as if she’d like to be anywhere but here. 

“You mean the female hulk? Hi, Y/N.” You introduced to which she promptly ignored. “Yeah, we’ve met.”

“Eh, don’t mind Rat. She’s more of a background gal, doesn’t speak much, but she’s _effective_ and that’s what matters. I trust her with my life. Clementine is my life,” Negan said.

Ben shifted against your chest and you patted his back, soothing him. Yes, you understood how a life that had only entered yours mere weeks ago could churn your insides to dust and recalibrate the entirety of your existence. 

“Arat shadows Clementine during the day while I’m busy, and one of my wives usually watches her. I think she’d be happier with you, however.” He spoke slowly, carefully. “Of course, you’ll be compensated. 3,000 points bi-weekly, access to the parlor during the day.” He listed off. “And since you’re feeding two babies, extra rations.”

“Wow, Negan. That’s…” You searched for the words desperately, coming up short.

The type of person that you were, you almost felt guilty for being paid to care for Clementine. It almost cheapened the whole thing, but then you remembered Ben and the possibility of upgrading to a new room with the extra points, buying fresh produce when he reached the age appropriate for solid foods. 

“Amazing. Thank you,” You finally said.

“I’ve got shit to get done today, but I’ll be around. Arat,” he called, standing up. “Take Y/N to the wive’s parlor, make sure she’s comfortable and well fed.”

Negan strapped Clementine into a car seat you hadn’t noticed, placing several kisses on her head in the process. It still amazed you how ruthless he could be in one moment and caring and soft in the next. You considered yourself fortunate, mostly because you’d been able to share some of those moments with him. 

_You’d also been on the receiving end of that treatment._

The thought came unwanted, effortless. 

While you were perfectly aware that Negan was the farthest thing from available, especially with several wives and an infant daughter in the queue, you couldn’t help but wish just the tiny bit that he’d actually touched you and reveled in it. Because in all honesty, parenthood could be isolating, and it had been months since someone had made you feel beautiful.

But the way he’s acting, like nothing happened hours before in the moments before the sun rose, lead you to believe that nothing _had_ happened. Nothing happened and would ever happen. So with a smile that may have been just a little resigned, you reached for Clementine’s baby bag, leaving Arat to take the actual carrier.

Only, Negan doesn’t release the strap, making it so that you’re both holding onto the bag. He leaned forward, asking, “You okay?”

“I’m a parent, Negan. I have to be, don’t I?”

He doesn’t miss the way you don’t meet his eyes.

 

* * *

 

The first day of kindergarten flashes behind your eyes in shutter images, because in a way, this was the first day of something new and unexplored. A foreign environment.

Arat held no qualms about ignoring the stares from the woman in the room, she’d plunked Clementine’s carrier down onto the coffee table and had thrown herself onto a chair, pushing headphones into her ears and completely zoning out. That left you with two infants and a roomful of six women who stared unabashedly. 

A pretty girl with sad eyes and a fitted black dress stepped forward, her hand raised. “I’m Sherry.” 

“Y/N,” You said, shaking her hand.

She eyed Benny curiously, going from Clementine in her carrier that had begun to grizzle then to Arat in the corner. “New wife?” she questioned. 

“I breastfeed Clementine and Negan thought it would be appropriate to have me look after her as well. I used to work in the gardens,” You explained, shifting uncomfortably in your sandals. 

God, how was it possible to feel so underdressed?

“Is this your son?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, pulling back some fabric so she has an unobscured view of his face. “This is Ben. You can hold him if you want, I think Clementine might be hungry again.”

Sherry readily agreed and you let out a sigh of relief as you were still unsure of how you were going to juggle two newborn infants at the same time. But for 3,000 points, you’d figure it out. After deducing that Clementine wasn’t hungry, you reached into her bag for a diaper, laying her on the couch to change her.

“You okay with him?” You glanced up, taking in Sherry’s unsure expression as Ben whined in her arms. “Bring his head up a little, he’s uncomfortable.”

She adjusted her hold, apologizing, “God, sorry.” 

“No worries, I’m still learning myself,” You admitted, working to get Clementine’s legging back in place as she squirmed out of your grip, kicking her legs. “There we go. You’re feisty this morning — aren’t you, munchkin?”

Kissing her head you laid her against your shoulder, plucking her blanket from the car seat and wrapping it around her legs. There should have been a warning for how addictive baby smell was, so clean and pure. Your nose pressed against the crown of her head like you’d seen Negan do numerous times before, nuzzling her downy hair. 

“I couldn’t imagine being a mother, not now,” Sherry said, interrupting your train of thought. “You make it seem effortless and I think it’s better that you’re here. The other’s aren’t so tolerant when she cries and most of the time I feel like we’re going to drop her on her head.”

She stood, placing Ben in your arms with the excuse of getting something to eat, leaving you to carefully maneuver so that each baby laid in the crook of your arm. None of the other wives bothered to acknowledge your presence so that left you to your thoughts, wondering the whereabouts of Clementine’s mother. 

You were nosey, sue you.

There were so many questions swirling around in your head. 

Had Amber been a wife? 

She must have been. Now you wished you’d listened to more of the factory gossip as you were currently drawing a blank. 

Was he actively looking for her? 

The question made you sad for a number of reasons because you’d grown an attachment to Clementine and admittedly, Negan. He was everything you wanted in a father figure for Ben, strong and brutally honest.

Your gaze fell to the chattering babies in your arms who’d locked eyes, slurring out bits of gibberish while waving tiny fists. “What are you two talking about, hmm? I’m feeling a bit left out.”

With a heavy sigh, you settled back into the couch cushion, snuggling your babies a little bit closer. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan sees a beautiful thing, so why can't you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a gentle reminder that i post on Wednesday & Saturday. x

What had started as a disgruntled whimper had quickly become a piercing cry. For such a small thing Clementine had quite a pair of lungs on her, and why it didn’t bother you much, the other wives had started to glance in your direction, mumbling beneath their breaths.

Tanya, in particular, had made her blatant dislike of Clementine’s presence clear. Between Tanya’s nagging, Clementine’s screeching and Ben’s whimpers, you were spiraling.

“Hey, can we get out of here?” You asked Arat, simultaneously rubbing your hand against Clementine’s back as you attempted to soothe her. 

She cocked her brow in response but listened to your suggestion with a shrug. “I can’t stand these bitches, either.”

“If we didn’t have to stay here you should have said something,” You said, breathing a sigh of relief. 

“Got any ideas?” she asked, looking expectant. 

“I know just the place,” You smirked.

* * *

Blades of grass tickled the soles of your feet, the afternoon sun warming your toes as you stretched and shifted carefully with Clementine at your breast suckling softly. At your side, Ben dozed in a portable baby lounger that Arat had graciously fetched from Negan’s room. She stood not too far away from where you lounged beneath your favorite tree with a book in hand periodically walking the border of the fence.

So that's why you hardly paid the muted footsteps in your direction any attention, it was only when the presence of that person eclipsed the sun and stole your reading light did you look up.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” Negan drawled, collapsing onto the blanket beside you and pressing a kiss to his daughter’s head in greeting.

“I’m all out of tits — and hands for that matter,” You quipped, tucking your book into your bag and busying yourself with pushing Ben’s pacifier back into his mouth.

With a sigh, Negan pulled away, breathing out heavy and flopping onto his back. If he mumbled anything beneath his breath in response, you’d completely missed it. 

Your lip quirked at his blatant display of frustration, no doubt actions that Clementine would start to practice as she got older. “Rough day?” 

“I’m working with a bunch of damn idiots,” he muttered, lifting his hand that he'd strewn over his face to study yours. “Then I find out that you’re missing — parlor not to your liking?”

“It’s not that. Although, I am more of an outside person.” You hesitated before you continued, deciding to be blunt. “Your wives don’t like babies; that’s all.”

He scrubbed his face, not looking the least bit surprised by your statement. His relaxed exterior that you'd witnessed this morning was gone, exchanged for the tense outer shell of a person that shouldered an entire community.

“Take your tongue off the roof of your mouth,” You ordered, reiterating the command when he only gazed at you mystified. “You heard me.”

The moment he complied, his jaw relaxed, the tension leaking from his face that he’d been holding there subconsciously. He rubbed at his mouth, thoughtfully, looking vaguely impressed.

“Now pick up my fussy baby.”

“You’re bossy today,” he mumbled, obeying and reaching for Ben who’d started to grow more agitated.

His frame instantly softened as he tucked Ben under his chin, pressing his nose into the baby’s little tufts of hair and inhaling. Ben calmed almost immediately, tucking his chin against Negan’s neck and grabbing a small fistful of his shirt. 

“I needed this,” Negan sighed. 

“Nothing better than the smell of clean baby,” You agreed, pulling Clementine a little closer and thumbing her tiny toes. In typical form, she’d lost a sock. Just one, leaving the other foot covered.

“How’d you know that thing about the tongue?”

“My mother.” You shrugged, trailing off when you noticed Arat stalking forward.

“Boss,” she greeted, nodding in Negan’s direction. “Should I get lunch?”

Negan turned to you. “You haven’t eaten yet; it’s past noon.”

“I’ve been a little busy with the kids…”

He waved off your excuse, ordering Arat to fetch whatever they were serving for the day as he moved Ben into the cradle of his arm. “You have to take care of yourself, too. Your health and wellbeing are just as important as making sure Ben and Clem are happy and healthy.”

“Okay, Negan. You’re right, I'll do better," You agreed, hoping that he wouldn't notice the effect his 'papa bear' routine had on you.

“Daddy Negan knows best.” He smirked before continuing. “My men found a breast pump today; we’ll try that tonight. Cut back on those late night encounters.”

“My bed’s not big enough,” You agreed, secretly disappointed that you wouldn’t get to relive what happened last night. “I’ve never pumped before, never had the points to afford that. Then again, Ben’s always been attached to my breasts, so there wasn’t a point.”

“Lucky boy,” Negan mouthed near silent as he adjusted his hold on your baby, ticking Ben’s belly. Ben giggled, dropping his pacifier as he reached out to claw at Negan’s face when he blew another raspberry. 

When it was clear Clementine had slowed her feeding and was doing nothing short of gnawing at your breast, you pulled her off and placed her over your shoulder so that you could burp her. In the process, the sun shifted, peaking through the tree branches and hitting Clementine square in the face. She let out a small grunt, a borderline cry that you immediately hushed. 

“Don’t cry, sweet girl. Look at this.” You placed her in the crook of your arm so that she was in the direct path of sunlight, palming her hand until it became outstretched, letting the sunbeams shine there. “Someone as beautiful as you belongs in the sunlight,” You told her softly, watching as she gripped your thumb and tried to cram it into her mouth.

“You’re good at that.”

The emotion in Negan's voice prodded at your heart, urging you to meet his gaze. It shouldn’t have shocked you, but it always would — that soft intensity of his eyes. It was as if he was trying to understand something about you that not even you knew. 

“What?” You wondered, licking your dry lips.

The look in his eyes never wavered as he answered, “Being a mother, you make it look so goddamn beautiful.”

“Oh,” You breathed, trying to ignore the way your heart pounded uncontrollably. “Well, being a father looks good on you, too. Trade babies?”

“Why ruin a perfectly good thing.” He placed a kiss on Ben’s forehead, maintaining eye contact until Arat’s approach stole his attention.

A beautiful thing, indeed. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That settles it, they're in it together.

It was something you learned once you became a parent, the golden rule: you can’t have nice things.

How many tops had Ben ruined with his spit-up? When was the last time you'd bought new sheets after Ben's diaper had leaked and stained them? 

You weren’t necessarily upset about it; there wasn’t ever a time you desired the finer things in life. 

“I know Negan said I could stay here instead of the parlor, but I feel like if I even sit I’m going to ruin something,” You said, looking around Negan’s spacious room. To say it was lascivious was an understatement. 

It seemed, no one had informed Negan of the cardinal rule.

Plush rugs, leather couches, and a full, king size bed with cotton sheets. You had the strongest urge to shuck your sandals and run your toes against what you could only assume was a real fur rug. There was even a tv tucked away in the corner with numerous media players.

“Well, try hard,” Arat huffed, placing Clementine in her carrier beside the couch. “I’ll be outside the door, so call if you need me — but try not to, okay?”

The door shutting behind her left an air of finality that relayed her annoyance, and you could only wonder what her aversion was to babies. You quickly decided that it mostly had to do with being tasked to babysit when she could be doing other more exciting things that Saviors tended to do. As if to prove your point, the babies began to whimper.

“Okay, kids. I think it’s nap time,” You said, working to get them situated in the crib at the foot of Negan’s bed. “There we go, much better. Right?”

They quieted instantly, turning their heads to face each other as if fascinated by the other's presence. You found it absolutely adorable. If Negan didn’t dispose of you once he’d found Amber, Clementine and Ben could turn out to be good friends in the future. 

You made quick work of changing their diapers before plugging both their mouths with pacifiers to ensure they’d soothe themselves to sleep. 

With nothing left to do you wandered around Negan’s room, gazing at his collection of records and his assortment of DVD's. You were surprised how similar your tastes were, almost identical, and you were tempted to touch; though, you refrained. It was kind enough for Negan to give you access to his room, messing something up just seemed counterintuitive.

Eventually, you drifted towards his plush couch, sinking into the leather and reclining against the pillows. They smelled like him, and that soothed you. While lavish like the parlor, Negan’s room felt familiar. You were comfortable, unbelievably so, and with one last look in the direction of the babies, you drifted to sleep. 

* * *

The soft prodding at your side roused you to the surface of consciousness, Negan’s face in your line of vision when you became fully awake. His handsome features arranged themselves into a soft smile, smoothing a hand down your back in greeting.

“You look comfortable,” he noted, watching you unfurl from your position curled on the couch. “Good; you deserve some sleep.”

“The babies?” You yawned, sitting up and stretching. 

“Still asleep.” He continued to kneel beside you, a hand on your knee. "I know you’re tired, but I have Carson here with the pump.”

As he spoke, your attention drifted over his shoulder to where Doctor Carson stood by the door. He stepped forward, greeting you softly, “How are you, Y/N. Benny?”

“He’s fine, getting bigger.”

“It’s a wonderful thing you’re doing for Clementine. I told Negan you were a good girl; you’d choose to do what was right,” Carson continued, placing his medical bag on the living room table and retrieving some supplies. He moved slow, yet precise, his actions confident despite his age. “Diane’s been asking about you, you know. She wants to make sure you’re getting enough sleep. We’d be happy to take him off your hands so you could get some rest.”

You smiled at the thought of Carson’s wife, Diane, she’d been supportive throughout your pregnancy and had been by your side when you delivered Ben. Despite the suggestion to watch your son, you were too prideful, unwilling to allow someone else to shoulder the responsibility that was solely yours.

“Thank you, Carson.” You meant that sincerely. He was a kind, elderly man that had done more than his share during your pregnancy.

Clementine’s sharp cry cut through the stillness of the room as Carson instructed you to lift your top. Negan stood, crossing the room quickly to attend to his daughter. Carson took his spot, leaning forward to gaze at your exposed breasts. You didn't have any qualms about being partially nude in front of him. He was your doctor and had never made you feel uncomfortable.

“Have you been doing self-breast exams?” he asked, to which you nodded the affirmative. “Good. This here is an electric breast pump, it's motorized, so you don't control the suction. No manual pumps, unfortunately. It's what I would have preferred since this is your first time,” he trailed, pulling the pump from his bag and connecting the pieces.

“It won’t hurt, right?” Negan asked, approaching with Clementine in his arms. “Ben’s still asleep,” he said, answering the unspoken question on your face.

The plastic of the breast shield was cool against your skin as Carson attached them to each of your breasts, instructing you to hold them in place. You flushed from the attention, especially Negan’s gaze that stared unabashedly at the machine, slightly skeptical.

“We’ll start with the lowest setting,” Carson assured him. 

As Carson fiddled with the machine, pressing the power button and adjusting the settings, the shields tightened around the tips of your breasts. At best, it was uncomfortable, like something was constricting your breasts. Not exactly, unbearable. 

“You okay?” Negan hedged forward.

“S’fine,” You grunted, closing your eyes to ignore his concerned expression.

You hoped that you’d produce enough milk very quickly and resort to this method when you had to be separated at night. 

“Y/N?”

The sound of your name being called went ignored as you found that a deep throbbing in your breast began to surface, like a dull ache. You attempted to breathe through the pain, hoping that you had enough milk for at least a small bottle at this point. 

Your skin flushed hot with the idea of letting down Negan and Clementine as embarrassment settled in your chest. It was your biggest fear as a mother — to be a failure. 

The spasming in your breast escalated to intense, burning pain, and you couldn’t contain the choked gasp that left your lips.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Negan called out more frantically, demanding an answer as the pain caused you to hunch forward.

“I need — off!” You whimpered.

“You heard her, doc. Goddamnit,” Negan cursed.

You worked on breathing through the pain as Carson fumbled to power down the pump, the weight of Negan’s palm against your waist as he cupped it, pulling you close.

“I’m sorry,” You gasped.  “I failed.”

“Sweetheart, it’s alright,” he soothed. “Let me see.”

He craned his head to look at your breasts, and you did the same, noting that your nipples were tender and puffy. You didn’t protest as he tucked you into his side despite your topless frame, consumed in what you knew all too well as ‘mom guilt.’ It didn’t matter that Clementine wasn’t your baby, you’d been tasked with a role you couldn’t adequately fulfill, and it hurt to feel so worthless.

Carson spoke carefully, quietly, watching as Negan wiped your tears. “Y/N, can you describe the pain?”

“At first, it was just uncomfortable—”

“So you were in pain,” Negan accused, pulling back to study your face. 

You nodded, guilty. “I just didn’t want to disappoint you.”

He sighed deeply, rubbing your back soothingly. “You have done, and will do more for me than anyone on this planet, Y/N. You could never disappoint me, sweetheart. Alright? You are so goddamn selfless and kind, and I'd be an ass not to see that. Tell me, you understand.”

“I understand,” You repeated, resting your head on his shoulder as you attempted to cover your breasts. 

“I’d say it’s one of two things if you’re not experiencing pain during breastfeeding,” Carson said, pausing so that you could confirm his assumption. “The flange fit is incorrect, but there isn’t another attachment we could try…” He shrugged, not looking entirely concerned. If anything, he looked as if he knew something you didn't. “Or the suction is too powerful, but we had it on the lowest setting as I said.”

You watched as the doctor took the collected milk, pouring it into a bottle, and handing it to Negan. 

Negan pressed the nipple of the bottle to his daughter's mouth, watching as Clementine furrowed her brow, gnawing on the rubber before spitting up the milk that dribbled from the tip. She gave a dissatisfied cry, turning her head away from the bottle.

“That settles it,” Carson said, standing up and collecting his things. “Looks like the little lady prefers straight from the breast. Y/N, I’d like you to make a note of your caloric intake since your feeding two babies now. You want to make sure you’re producing enough milk while maintaining your health, and stop by the clinic soon for an exam,” he requested.

You readily agreed, watching as he left with a small sigh. Despite Negan’s reassurance, you couldn’t shake the guilt, and he seemed to sense that as he looked up from wiping the milk from Clem's mouth.

“Look’s like you’re stuck with me for another night,” he teased, not looking particularly upset. “Is my room okay?”

“It’s more than okay.” You meant it; you didn’t want to be alone. Not now, not when you felt vulnerable, and Negan was overflowing with kind words, and he had his soft, intense eyes trained solely on you. “Thank you, Negan.”

“I meant every word I said.” He studied your face intently, his hand seeking yours, entwining fingers. He sounded in awe when he said, “You are so beautiful, it’s effortless for you.”

You couldn’t help but realize that was the second time he’d called you beautiful, and you believed it. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan and the reader take a stroll down memory lane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know its been a month since the last update and i sincerely apologize. xx  
> edit: i accidentally posted the unedited version of this chapter a couple of hours ago, sorry for the confusion

“Why don’t you take a shower?”

It was as good as a marriage proposal in your eyes, the equivalent of being given the key to the city.

“In your bathroom?” You clarified.

The idea of being able to shower in a bathroom, rather than one of the communal stalls brought literal tears to your eyes. This time it wasn’t the hormones. 

“Yes, Y/N. In my shower,” he echoed. “Do you need anything from your room? I could have Arat get it on her way to the kitchen.”

“Maybe just the essentials until the morning,” You answered, “most of Benny’s things are with me in my bag.”

He squeezed your hand one last time, dropping it and standing to cross the room. “Take your time, sweetheart.”

Music to your ears. 

Self-care had always been something you prided yourself on, and you especially luxuriated in hot baths. The kind that overflowed with bubbles and swirled with essential oils. 

It was the simple things that you missed — privacy, hot water, and body wash. In a matter of seconds, Negan had offered you the world on a silver platter.

Still, you were reluctant. Mom guilt. “You’ll be okay with both babies?”

Negan turned, shrugging, donning a boyish smile. “How hard can it be?”

Deciding not to comment on his ignorance — you were a firm believer in hands-on learning — you dropped your worries and made a break for the bathroom before he could change his mind. 

_How hard can it be?_

Shutting the bathroom door with a small laugh, you took to studying your surroundings. Not only did Negan’s bathroom have a stand-alone shower, but a deep soak tub. You found yourself brushing along the taps wistfully, imagining soaking in the bath for an uninterrupted amount of time. 

Letting the hot water cascade down your back after quickly stripping, you allowed the spray to wash away the thin layer of grime that had settled on your skin during the day. You found yourself habitually rushing through the process of bathing, so accustomed to having to keep one eye on Benny at all times. 

You forced yourself to move slowly and give in to the luxury of letting your mind wander.

For the first time in a long time, you were alone. No baby. It was a pleasant change to be able to focus on yourself, especially when Benny was in such capable hands. Hands that had held yours and comforted you when you were in pain. Hands capable of both tender and brutal acts. 

Negan was nothing short of complex, taking on the roles of leader, father, and caregiver. They were only fragments of a much bigger picture, and you desperately wanted to see the masterpiece. 

When your skin was scalded from the hot water, and you were saturated in Negan’s body wash, there weren’t any feminine products in sight, you exited the stall in search of a towel, finding one hung on the back of the door. 

“ _Hey kids, shake it loose together…_ ”

You paused in drying yourself, pressing an ear to the door. You could’ve been mistaken, but it sounded like Negan was singing.

“ _…the spotlight's hitting something…_ ”

Intrigued, you reached for the doorknob, turning the handle slowly as not to alert Negan to your presence. You found him, your eyes seemingly gravitating to his presence, lying alongside your son on his bed. 

“… _you know I read it in a magazine…_ ” He stopped singing, dipping his head to blow a raspberry on Ben’s stomach, pulling a hiccuping laugh from the baby. “ _B-B-B-Benny and the Jets!_ ”

Your heart constricted as you watched them interact, wishing that the scene before you could be yours. 

As much as you wanted it to, it wasn’t.

He did it again, letting Benny claw at his face as he squealed in delight.

“Elton John was playing in the clinic the moment I found out I was pregnant,” You said, making yourself known. “I thought it was fitting.”

You weren’t necessarily aware of your nudity, mostly because it had been second nature to seek the whereabouts of your child, but the second his eyes turned in your direction and you held his gaze — you couldn’t help but feel exposed. 

“It’s the only thing that stopped him from crying. I think he’s hungry,” Negan said by way of explanation. “Look, kid. There’s your mama, no more tears.”

“He shouldn’t be hungry.” You glanced at the clock on his nightstand, missing the way Negan’s eyes flickered across the exposed column of your neck and collarbone. “He’s still got another hour, but I should feed Clementine soon.” 

Try as you might, it seemed the kids would never get on the same feeding schedule.

“Arat isn’t back with your clothes yet, but I have a shirt and some boxers you could wear.” He nodded his head in the direction of his dresser, hefting both babies into his arms as a knock at the door sounded.

Baby thief. 

You smiled fondly at his back, moving towards his drawers with a hint of giddiness in your step that you hopelessly attempted to snuff. 

You told yourself that you shouldn’t get attached, that someday you would have to distance yourself and it would only hurt in the end. 

It’s a  poor attempt on your part. 

There wasn’t a cell in your body that didn’t thrum with the anticipation of being enveloped in his scent — spiced apples and vanilla. Warmth. It made for an intoxicating combination that you were quickly beginning to interpret as home.

Taking a worn, yet soft to the touch band tee and a pair of cotton boxers to the bathroom, you changed quickly.

“Y/N, this is Simon.” Negan introduced once you'd returned, letting the other man take Clementine so that he could heft Ben onto his shoulder. “My right-hand man.”

You waved shyly, feeling underdressed in Negan’s shirt. Though, Simon’s easy smile soothed your concerns. 

“So you’re the one taking care of our girl.” He rocked the baby in his arms, making faces until she gave him the baby equivalent of a bewildered expression. “That’s a hell of a commitment that I have to admire you for taking. He isn’t given you any problems is he?” he asked, referring to Negan.

“Other than the impromptu visit last night,” You teased, “I can’t complain.”

“Sounds like him,” Simon said. “Demanding and entitled.”

“Watch it, brother,” Negan warned, though his words held no heat.

You were intrigued by their dynamic. For all the rumors of their alpha male personalities that constantly clashed, they got along in private very well. Vaguely you wondered if you had somehow stepped into the _Twilight Zone_ , it seemed so foreign to watch two ruthless men handle babies so tenderly.

The thought that this was now your reality didn’t escape you, but you dropped your inner-musings for now as a knock at the door sounded.

“Can you get that, Y/N? It’s probably Rat with dinner.” Negan said.

With a short nod, you padded towards the door, their conversation trailing behind you. It isn’t your fault that you happened to overhear.

“…you find her?”

“…she left a note on a gas station wall near Highway 68…doesn’t seem alone…”

Arat’s usual expression, annoyed and impatient, greeted you on the other side of the door. She'd been poised to speak; eyes narrowed, and mouth pinched when the words stalled on her tongue. 

“Um, I brought dinner,” she said, shuffling aside to let the kitchen staffers through with several trays. “Your bag, Y/N.”

“Thank you?” You accepted the bag, studying her flustered behavior. 

She fiddled with her hair, brushing back the few strands that escaped her bun as her eyes once again drifted over your shoulder. Following her gaze, you watched her watch Simon, who was deep into a tense conversation with Negan. 

Neither of them paused their discussion, unbothered by the activity around them. “Oh, Arat. I’m starting to think from the few seconds you’ve been here you that you might have a thing for Simon?” You said, lowering your voice.

“Shut the hell up,” she hissed, locking eyes. “He’ll hear you.”

“They can’t,” You protested, pointing to the kitchen staff that was making noise. "Unless I repeat myself a little louder..."

“Are you blackmailing me?” She frowned, most likely rethinking her assumptions about you. “Me, Y/N?”

“Yes.”

You had, plainly putting it, no shame. Working with two babies today had been challenging and draining, a part of you was dreading tomorrow. It would be nice to have someone step in when it got too overwhelming. 

“Damn, I respect that.” Her version of a smile graced her face. “What do you want?” 

“Three diaper changes, baby cuddles, and some adult conversation,” You listed. “I’d like to get to know you as a person.”

“Deal,” she agreed. “But I don’t do baby talk.”

“Fine,” You relented. It was worth a shot. “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

A piercing cry emitted from Clementine's mouth, immediately drawing every eye in the room to her contorted expression of discontent. You were beginning to know that cry very well, her hungry cry.

“Alright, alright. I get it, pumpkin. I hear you loud and clear,” Simon attempted to soothed her, quickly crossing the room to where you stood off to the side with Arat. “I’m intruding on your dinner, aren’t I?”

You readily accepted the baby into your arms, the weight of her small body against yours, drawing the breath from your lungs that you weren't even aware you'd been holding. How was it possible to fall in love so hard and so fast with someone you’d just met? It was the same protectiveness that you felt for your son. 

You missed the end of Negan and Simon's mumbled conversation, too concerned in soothing Clementine and wiping the fat tears that rolled down her cheeks, her cries turning to pathetic whimpers. 

“Alright, everyone get the fuck out.” Negan motioned to the door, clearing the room as you took a seat on the couch beside the impressive spread. “This ain’t a free show.”

“Could be,” Simon quipped just as the door closed, cutting him off mid-word.

Letting the baby at your breast suckle eagerly, you popped a cherry tomato into your mouth, all the while, considering the merits of allowing Clementine to finish or make the careful attempt to eat your dinner simultaneously. 

“Let me do that.” Negan began to ready a plate, presumably for you. He piled on roasted chicken, plenty of cherry tomatoes and several yeast rolls. 

“You don’t have to,” You mumbled, casting your eyes downward. “You should eat.”

His hand outstretched, he offered you a generous helping of salad and chicken speared on a fork. “I’ll eat after I know you’re taken care of."

You chewed thoughtfully, accepting the bite after hesitating.

“Why are you treating me this way?” You asked, hastily adding, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m extremely grateful for everything you offered me. I'm just saying that this could have been strictly transactional…”

You thought of mentioning the bed sharing and the sweet touches; only you didn’t want him to believe that they were unwanted. 

“Take a bite, and I’ll answer your question,” he bargained. 

Swallowing the bite you gave him an expectant look, realizing moments after that he seemed weary now. You became doubtful, understanding that you had somehow encroached on a sensitive topic. 

“My first wife, Lucille, was the kind of woman that had baby names picked out at the age of fourteen. All she ever wanted was to be a mother,” he said, chewing around a mouthful. If he held any qualms about sharing a utensil, he didn’t show it. “It was after a couple of months of trying that we decided to go to the doctor.”  

He stabbed aggressively at the chicken on the shared plate. “Cervical cancer.”

“When I found out that Amber was pregnant — shit, I was over the moon. In a way, I was giving Lucille her dying wish. Me as a father.” He shook his head, eyes distant, and you got the sense he was somewhere else. “Amber didn’t see it that way. We agreed that after Clementine was old enough, she didn’t have to be apart of her goddamn life anymore. I’m not proud of it, but she’d started drinking weeks into the pregnancy, and I couldn’t let her do that shit…"

Negan scoffed. "A prisoner, that’s how she phrased it.”

“It’s understandable,” You said slowly. “I don’t know what I’d do if the roles were reversed and someone tried to hurt Ben.” Then, unable to resist, you asked, “So she ran?”

“She ran,” he confirmed.

“And you want her back?” You’d almost forgotten about Clementine in your arms, but when whimpered, having unlatched, you adjusted her head so that she could latch again. 

The expanse of silence on his part made you apprehensive about looking in his direction, believing that this time you really had overstepped a boundary. You’re only partially surprised when he answers.

“I thought for Clementine’s benefit, at least. ‘Every girl needs a mom right? Teach ‘em all that _womanly_ stuff. I’m not exactly versed in that shit, and I can’t imagine what it’ll be like when she gets older and starts PMSing.”

“Please,” You begged, rolling your eyes. “Let’s not talk about hormones and teenage years. I’m afraid of what the product of my parenting will be.”

“I was a little shit,” Negan remarked, feeding you another bite.

“Tell me something that isn’t blatantly obvious,” You retorted. “Although I wasn’t any better.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“When I was four,” You challenged, “I used to open the front door and walk around the neighborhood. My parents tried every kind of lock, but I just wanted to play outside with the older kids down the street.”

“I had a temper,” Negan smirked, “used to throw things and usually got a couple of other kids in the daycare to do what I said. We raised hell.”

“Oh, gosh.” You laughed at the mental picture of baby Negan, starting a mini-uprising. “So in so many words — are kids are screwed? Ben’s going to be a little escape artist and pumpkin here might try to take your throne some day.”

“Goddamnit,” Negan said, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “We're screwed.”

“You hear that munchkin?” Your knuckles brushed across Clementine’s tuffs of hair affectionately. “You don't even stand a chance.”

"It's been years, but I still remember her exact words. Lucille," he clarified, then quoting, "There is nothing more beautiful than the bond between a mother and child." A pause. "I chalked it up to some cheesy bullshit, but I think I get it now. When it's done right, it's the most amazing thing to watch; I almost feel like I'm intruding on something I don't even deserve to see."

Momentarily speechless by his vulnerability, you finally said, "I think I would have liked to meet Lucille. She sounds like an amazing person."

"...she was." He offered you another bite.

Silently, you took it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bedtime story and realizations that this can't last forever occurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a shorty but a goodie! x

It shouldn’t have been that big of a deal. Above the sheets or under them?

Shortly after dinner, Negan had excused himself to shower. You’d yawned in the process of changing Ben’s diaper, and he’d made the passing comment: _Why don’t you get into bed?_

The bed.

You were sharing a bed, and somehow, it all felt different than the night before. Maybe it was because you’d been half-awake when you’d agreed to it, had beckoned him to join you because of how tired he seemed. 

You usually weren't so bold. 

Still, that was then, and this was now and every moment you spent contemplating hypotheticals was a second lost. At any moment, Negan could walk into the room and catch you in the middle of your mini-meltdown. 

With no other option, you turned to your son for advice.

Smelling fresh and both with clean diapers, he and Clementine seemed content where you’d placed them in the in-bed co-sleeper. It was barely big enough for the both of them, but if they minded, they didn’t show it. 

“What do you think, Benny? Underneath?”

He grunted in response, head lolling as his eyes searched for Clementine. He found her quickly enough, waving small fists as if to communicate something to her. You could have sworn that they were silently talking, probably about how erratic you were acting.

Their conversation probably went something like this:

_“This chick, am I right?” — Benny_

_“She’s your mom, dude.” —Clementine_

You tickled Ben’s stomach, drawing his eyes back to your face. “Doesn’t that imply some level of intimacy?” You asked. 

Ben yawned. 

“You’re right,” You muttered. “If I’m above the sheets, that’s casual, and it doesn’t imply anything. Although I shouldn't be overthinking this, should I? I’m just doing a favor for a friend. We're friends, right? He’s seen my boobs, so I guess that makes us more than acquaintances..”

It only became apparent after you’d finished your verbal vomit that talking to infants was getting you nowhere. 

Damn, you needed more adult company. 

Hearing the shower turn off, you quickly hopped into bed, grabbing your copy of So You’re A Mom Now? from where you’d placed it on the nightstand beside the bed in a weak attempt to look casual.

The Sanctuary’s library had been scarce, and the only information available on infants was said book. It covered every possible topic that a mother endured from breastfeeding to traveling with your baby. 

You meant to turn to the part of the book that mentioned breast pumps but found yourself in a completely different part instead: _so you’re ready to date?_

Thumbing the page nervously, you decided to give in to your curiosity, so invested in the material that you hardly noticed the sound of the water turning off or the bathroom door opening minutes later. 

“What’s got you so invested?” You heard. Without asking, Negan plucked the book from your hands, eyes skimming the title page before widening subtly. “You going on dates anytime soon?”

“I don’t know,” You responded shyly, silently appreciating his wet hair and gingham sleep pants. “Probably not, I mean I have a kid — that’s a dealbreaker for men, isn’t it? Baggage.”

“Benny’s not baggage.”

“Of course not, it’s just complicated…” You sighed, feeling the reality of the conversation hit you like a brick to the face. “I just need someone willing to take responsibility for my son and treat him like his own. Someone who’s nice and listens to me…” You found that once you started talking, you couldn’t stop rambling on. 

“Oh, and he cleans, too! I’m so tired of cleaning. I’d also like him to give really good baby cuddles; my family was always so big on affection that I can’t imagine a future where I settle for anything less. He’s just…maybe a little…” So consumed in fantasying, you’d consequently missed the way Negan regarded you. Some would say with a hint of longing; skeptics would say pity. “I just want him to love me enough to stick around, you know?”

It’s there after that you realized you’d described Negan to a “ _T_.”

Or at least, to an extent. 

“Where’s his father?” He asked, rather bluntly. You considered it fair since you’d inquired of Clementine’s mother rather rudely. 

“Out of the picture. He was just a one night stand, I guess.”

“Well, shit. Welcome to the Single Parent’s Club — party of _dós_.” Negan reached into the nightstand on his side of the bed, pulling a book from the drawer. “Why don’t we lighten the mood?”

He passed you the book. 

“What the hell is this?” You squeaked. 

Someone had scribbled out the word ‘moon’ in the children’s book _Goodnight Moon_ and replaced it with ‘Sanctuary.’

“Made it myself,” he declared proudly. 

“I’m actually really excited for this,” You giggled, handing it back to him so that you could feed Ben.

After you'd all gotten comfortable, Negan cradling Clementine in the crook of his arm and you with Benny nestled against your breast; he began to read. 

“ _In the factory, there was a badass leader with a cool ass leather jacket, your papa…_ ”

You were absolutely delighted to find that he’d edited the pictures in the book with magazine clippings. You moved closer to get a better look, arms brushing in the process.

“ _Goodnight Lucille…and goodnight walkers…goodnight Simon who’s usually out by 11’ o’clock with a bottle of whiskey…_ ”

“Jesus, you didn’t!” You guffawed. 

By the time he was halfway through the book, you were both cracking jokes and improvising pages.

“ _Goodnight to that one creaky door on floor five…goodnight to the rats on floor eight…goodnight to my pumpkin…_ ” He finished, placed a kiss on his daughter’s head. She’d fallen asleep tucked against his chest, a hand beneath her chin.

“…and goodnight Benny _._ ”

And it was a good night, all your worries and insecurities slipping away just like the night before as you slid beneath the sheets — the babies soft breathing and the pure comfort of sharing a bed with someone you trusted, lulling you to sleep. 

During the night, you dreamt of Negan's hands pulling you closer, and cradling you against his chest; the subtle warmth of his breath, brushing your neck as he nuzzled your ear. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”  


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader and Negan have their first fight, and Simon thinks that they'd make cute babies.

So life went on as it does — a month, to be specific — and the days are lighter, and there are soft moments and conversation exchanged that you’ve come to treasure. You’re pretty sure that at night Negan’s hands wander, your hands wander, and bodies become intertwined, but by the morning you’re on opposite sides of the bed.

You believe that your bodies already know what your hearts want, it’s only the conscious mind and circumstances that pull you apart. You should feel guilty because you know he has wives — ones that he doesn’t spend much time with anymore — but wives nonetheless. 

Arat becomes an ally, giving in to the friendship you have to offer because according to her, "The lack of adult communication is tiresome." She’s like an old friend and you fall into a rhythm of conversation, though there are also quiet moments, understanding that sometimes silent contemplation is needed. 

There is an instance when your curiosity is so palpable that you have to give in, seeing how she avoided the children at all cost when she could. You'd asked tentatively, “You think you’ll have babies of your own?”

She’d rolled her eyes and said all nonchalant, “A family isn’t what I want,” but you'd caught her days later in the early morning hours when Negan had left, and her shift began, holding a sniffing Benny and softly cooing as she rocked him back to sleep. 

You’d closed your eyes, feeling as if you were intruding on something _untouchable_.

When Negan could, he liked to stay close to the factory and you liked those days because he’d join you for lunch under the tree you now deemed yours. He’d wander periodically over to the front gate, barking out orders to his men who were busy unloading cargo. Currently, he had Benny strapped to his chest in a baby carrier, occasionally bouncing the fussy baby to appease his small tantrums that he'd been having all morning.

It was comical, watching Negan, sardonic and foul-mouthed, toting a small baby around on his chest; but if his men thought that too, they didn’t dare say it to his face.

“Your daddy is a big softie,” You cooed to Clementine, simultaneously burping her. “He’s just a little grumpy today, huh?”

Something must have been bothering Negan. He’d been quiet the night before, not even a bedtime story for the kids, and especially brutish to his men today. 

Arat had wandered towards the chaos when Simon’s voice had joined Negan's shouting, leaving you to watch the spectacle not too far away. 

“Hey.”

“Oh, hello.” You shielded your eyes from the sun, regarding the tall figure that was now blocking your view.

“Michael.”

You bit your lip, contemplating. “Y/N.”

“I was on gate duty,” he said as if you had asked. “This might be a little forward, but I’ve been watching you for some time and I—”

Clementine’s loud burp cut through his dialogue, punctuating her interruption with a much more petite belch. Content, she gurgled, clutching at your shirt and tucking her head into the crook of your neck. 

There’s a beat of silence before both you and Michael are chuckling at her antics. So cute.

“You’re a great mom,” he said, kicking at a blade of grass.

You don't bother to correct him.

“I’m kind of making it up as I go along.” Feeling as if you were at a disadvantage and it was sort of impolite to be sitting while he was standing, you held out your hand asking, “A hand, please?”

“My pleasure.” Michael carefully helped to your feet, his hand lingering in yours. “I’ve admired you for a while and if you’d be willing, I’d like to take you out—”

“What the _fuckity-fuck_ am I paying you for, Mikey? Huh? Surely not to stand around chit-chatting,” Negan interrupted, whispering harshly for the sake of the babies. 

“I’m on my lunch break, but I'll go," he grumbled, immediately shuffling off.

“Fucker,” Negan grumbled. “Was he bothering you, sweetheart?”

His usual endearment had the opposite effect that it usually did. To your ears, the pet name sounded condescending and so smug, as if he presumed he was doing you a favor. 

My hero, you thought sarcastically.

“He was asking me out,” You huffed. 

“I know, I heard,” he huffed, “fucking ridiculous that he—”

“What’s so ridiculous about flirting with me?” When he didn’t answer, you bristled, filling the blanks he’d left empty. “I know this concept is insane but people actually might want to date me, Negan.”

He pursed his lips. “Stop twisting my words. That isn't fair.”

“I’m not,” You protested, your voice rising to match his own. His own anger, fueling yours. “You came over here and scared Michael away when he was being nice. Now you’re here and being an _ass_! How is that fair?”

“You don’t even know him!”

“What if I’d like to?” You yelled. “Why is it that you get six wives and I get nothing? I’m just your milk machine and certifiable baby sitter,  always at your beck and call.”

“You’re not just a babysitter. Hey, look at me,” he commanded until you finally did. “You’re more than that, after all this time you don’t believe that?”

Hormones. It has to be the damn hormones because suddenly your eyes are watering and your throat is tight with some emotion you don’t care to identify.

“Fuck you.”

“Well, fuck you, too,” he scoffed, blinking.

As if it were rehearsed, you both turned sharply on your heels, making fast strides in opposite directions.

* * *

“What the hell did you say to Y/N?” Simon squinted, tickling Benny’s fist until he wrapped his small hand around his finger, clasping it tightly with the subtle strength that only an infant could possess.

“That bastard, Michael, had the nerve to ask her out for a drink,” Negan admitted, brow intently furrowed in thought.

“And you got jealous?” 

“I might have been as an ass,” he admitted. “She’s just…”

“—driving you mad?” Simon asked, his gaze naturally gravitating towards Arat who’d finished hefting a metal piece that had broke off one of the trucks, and was now in the process of looking for Y/N. “You sure it ain’t the proximity?”

Negan hesitated, patting Ben’s back absentmindedly. “I haven’t had sex since I met her.”

Simon took a step back, stumbling. “Not even a blowjob?”

Negan looked around, still covering Ben’s ears since his confession. “Not even a goddamn blowjob.”

“Shit,” Simon breathed, eyes curious. “That the reason you called off the search on Amber yesterday? You seemed...conflicted.”

“Maybe,” Negan mumbled. “Shit's fucking complicated. All I know is I don’t want her with some asshole. If he wants to fuck someone so badly he can meet Lucille — I’d take her straight to his smug face.” 

Benny giggled cutely, eyes intent on Negan’s face with vague curiosity. It drew Negan’s attention and he smiled at the baby, rocking him slightly. “Yes, I would. _Yes_ , I would. Wouldn’t that be something Benny-boy?” he cooed, pulling another laugh from Ben.

“For what it’s worth,” Simon pointedly said, watching him interact with the baby. “You guys would make adorable babies.”

“Damn straight,” Negan huffed.

* * *

 “The nerve of your father, am I right?”

Not wanting to go immediately back to Negan’s room, you’d gone to the consignment store, wandering into the baby aisle and selecting a few random items of clothing for Benny and Clementine.

“He can be such an ass sometimes,” You muttered. “God help you when you start dating, munchkin. You’re royally fucking screwed.”

Clementine sucked on her fist in response to your ramblings, stretching  as she watched you intently from the cradle of your arm. In your haste, you’d left your baby wrap, the consequence being your left arm had begun to go numb as you toted her around the store. 

“You’ve gotten chunky, haven’t you?” You teased, picking up a toy and waving it playfully until she reached for it, her sharp eyes tracking the movement of the object. 

“She’s perfect,” A voice interrupted, “just like her mother.”

“Michael?” His sheepish expression regarded you from between the parted clothing hung on the clothing rack. “I thought Negan scared you off?”

“I must have a death wish,” he joked.

You met Clementine’s eyes briefly and they seemed to say, ‘Yeah, he actually might.’

“One date?” he offered. “Unless the rumors are true...and you’re actually with Negan?”

Rumors? You briefly considered Negan, all furrowed brows, and stormy eyes — the fact that he had several women in his queue. Ergo, he’d never be yours. It was time you acted on what you'd been telling yourself for so long. At the end of the day, you were your own person and you owed him nothing. 

He could watch the kids for a night. Surely, he owed you that much.

You smiled. “I’d love that.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So there's a date and Simon realizes its always about timing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its been a minute since i've posted but life is rough. x

**That same day...**

It’s much later when you have Clementine and Ben down for a nap that you decide one would benefit you as well; only sleep comes in fractured pieces, and you’re awake when Negan quietly enters the room. He made quick strides that you realized eventually lead to the bathroom, and moments later, the sound of running bathwater confirmed your suspicions.

The bed sagged sometime later, Negan taking a seat by your legs. “Y/N, I know you’re awake.”

You stubbornly refused to address him, pointedly rolling over in bed. 

“Alright,” he sighed. “You’re mad, and I get that. I deserve that.”

Silence on your part. 

“I drew you a bath before dinner,” Negan said softly, rubbing your calf through the bedsheets. You shifted, moving it from underneath his hand. 

“I used that lavender bubble bath and those bath salts that you love so much…” he trailed off, and you have to beat down the curiosity of how he must look, what expression he must have been wearing as he apologized so sweetly. Silently, you willed yourself not to give in. “I just want what’s best for you, nothing less.”

“Then why are you treating me like you own me?” You scrambled from beneath the covers, one part because a bath was tempting, the other part because your frustrations were rising. “It’s lonely, you know? I haven’t felt desirable in a long time, Negan, and it feels good for someone to look at me like that for once. It’s just a date—”

“I’ll take you on a date,” Negan interrupted.

You stopped pacing the floor, lips pursed. “I don’t want your pity date.”

“It’s not.”

“Whatever,” You scoffed, feeling grateful that he’d drawn you a bath, intent on enjoying it now that your muscles were locking up with stress.

Before you could move, he grabbed you by the arm, pulling you far closer than he'd ever done before. You could see the sincerity that shined so brightly in his eyes, and yet, you forced yourself to look away.

“I mean it,” he insisted.

“You have wives,” You protested, pushing at his chest for leverage as you struggled to escape. "Don't say things you don't mean."

“What the hell do I have to do to convince you that I have genuine feelings for you — _you_ , Y/N. No one else,” Negan stressed. “I’ll fucking get rid of them if that’s what it takes, they've been dead weight for a long time.”

“Stop lying,” You said, finally breaking free of his hold. “Tomorrow night. 7:00 pm. You’re watching the kids.”

You shut the bathroom door with an air of finality.

* * *

Negan had offered you everything you’d wanted on a silver platter, and you’d refused it all. On some unconscious level, you could admit that you had screwed it all up, but on a very conscious and nagging level, you knew you didn’t want to look desperate for love and readily jump into his arms at the snap of _his_ fingers.

Comforted by that thought, you told yourself if Negan wanted you like he said he did, he wouldn’t give up on the first try. 

You wanted him to try again.

Like really fucking badly.

You’d mentioned it to Arat the following morning, and she didn’t seem surprised by Negan’s admission, only commented, “Well, finally. Now you just need to get your head out of your ass.” 

To which you’d retorted, “I’ll admit my feeling for Negan if you admit _your_ feelings for Simon.”

Arat blatantly denied her feelings to which you blatantly denied yours, and realizing you were at a stalemate, and you’d quickly changed the subject.

Michael had promised to pick you up around 7:00 pm, a reasonable time for you to be back for the babies' next feeding. Like a coward, you’d retreated to the bathroom to get ready an hour before, the door partially left open to keep one eye on the kids. You’d heard Negan quietly enter sometime later, heard him softly cooing to the children and to your surprise he’d left soon after.

The empty crib and the absence of your baby bag left you conflicted when you’d finally gathered the courage to venture from the bathroom. 

You were beginning to regret ever talking to Michael.

“No going back now,” You mumbled to yourself, giving one glance in the mirror. You’d gone with a simple look: a soft tee and, for lack of better words, mom jeans, paired with your beat-up converses. “If he can’t have me at my worst, he doesn’t deserve me at my best.”

Unfortunately, this was kind of your best. Since giving birth, jeans just seemed like a crime against humanity. 

A knock at the door sounded.

**6:58 pm**

“He’s early,” You said, hovering by the door. “That’s a good trait.”  
****

With a deep breath, you fingered the doorknob, grasping it and turning the handle so that the door swung open to reveal—

“Negan, what the hell?”

“I’m here to take you on a date,” he said, explaining it like it was obvious — as if you weren’t expecting a completely different person.

“What happened to Michael?” A pause. “You didn’t kill him, did you?”

“No.” Another pause. “I did consider it, though.”

Negan thrusted a bouquet of wildflowers in your direction, and for the first time you noticed that he'd showered, his hair still damp and vaguely smelling of cologne.

“What is this?” You sighed tiredly.

“I’m making a romantic gesture, Y/N. Like _The Notebook_ , only we’re not going to make the same mistakes they did,” he said. “Take the goddamn flowers and let me show you a good time.”

“You have—”

“Wives?” he finished. “Got rid of ‘em all.”

“Just like that?”

“ _Just like that.”_ He grinned. “It’s amazing how fast people move when you wave a gun around, sure got some asses moving — and before you ask, around settled the alimony.”

“Negan,” You sighed, that one word conveying your frustration and longing in the same slip of the tongue. “I already agreed to go out with Michael.”

“Drinks at The Basement Bar,” Negan guessed, sizing you up. “Sweetheart, you _hate_ jeans. Fuck, you must be miserable. Don’t worry; I’ll wait here while you change.”

“Do you have a point?” You asked, trying and failing to hide the small grin that was beginning to match his own. You were hopeless. “Make it good, Negan.”

“Besides the fact that moonshine is not a sustainable meal, I do. You and I,” Negan stressed, “have something that I don’t want to make the mistake of missing out on... Is that so hard to believe? I know I don't deserve you, but I have to try, baby.”

“And what exactly are you afraid of missing out on?” You asked, your resolve wavering as you realized the extent of his gestures. 

“We’re a sure thing, like something fated — us, Ben, and Clem. A ready-made family,” he corrected himself. “Just give me the night to prove it, and if you don’t feel the same, then we’ll go back to being what we already are.”

“What if I don’t want to,” You mumbled, clarifying, “go back to the way we were?”

You finally took the offered flowers, giving them a dainty sniff, pleasantly surprised by the thoughtful gesture. 

“Hell yeah, sweetheart. So we’re doing this?” he asked cautiously, watching as an array of emotions danced across your delicate features. His hands twitched, wanting to touch you, and he held himself barely at bay as he waited for you to speak.

There’s a passage in _So You’re A Mom Now?_ under the section _So You’re Ready to Date?_ that you’d highlighted and underlined twice _: 'Take every moment as it is. There should be no hesitancy in pursuing what you deserve.’_

Urged by the passage, you stood on the tips of your toes, throwing your arms around his neck in a move that you vaguely recall from a scene in _The Notebook_. There isn’t even a second of hesitation before Negan’s kissing you back, the scruff of his beard coarse against the softness of your face, a welcoming feeling that only heightened the moment. It's like riding a bike, shaky at first until you find that you’re moving in sync to an old rhythm that you’d always known.

“Give me five minutes,” You breathed, breaking the kiss reluctantly. “I need to change my pants.”

* * *

“You’re not going to murder me, are you?”

Despite your hesitancy, you’d allowed Negan to blindfold you for the sake of a ‘fuck-awesome surprise’ — his words, not yours. You’d been walking for what felt like hours with no sense of direction, although you knew that it couldn’t have been more than several minutes.

“Sweetheart, the only thing I want to murder is your pus—"

“ _Negan_.”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckled. “Too soon?”

“Maybe wait more than twenty minutes?” You quipped, remembering how his hands had wandered to your ass minutes before which he claimed was meant to prevent you from running into a wall. Funny, your outstretched hands had found nothing where he indicated. 

“Can you blame me?” You felt him shrug as he led you through what you felt could be a narrow hallway. “Its been a while.”

“How long is a while?” You asked curiously. 

“Almost a year,” he admitted. “Hasn’t been the same, you know? Never thought I’d be the one to say putting out just ain’t the same after having Clem — but it isn’t.”

That was understandable. You just viewed sex differently after becoming a parent, intimacy just got put on a back burner, and having a connection with the person became a necessity.

Before you could voice your opinion, your skin prickled as your senses registered that you were outdoors. The warm air brushed goosebumps across your forearms, the chattering of crickets and other insects filling the mostly silent night.

Negan pulled your blindfold away with a flourish.

“Oh, Negan.” Your eyes widened, an odd fluttering in your chest briefly stealing your attention from his romantic gesture. “You did all this? For me?”

The Sanctuary had several rooftops, and Negan had situated a picnic on one of the relatively higher platforms, a generous spread consisting of pizza and cookies atop a padded mattress overflowing with pillows. Tea lights casted soft light across the roof; all encased in mason jars scattered along the roof. 

“All for you,” he promised, leading you closer.

You settled atop the bed, eagerly taking a slice and Negan followed shortly after, kicking his boots off in the process. 

“Thank you,” You murmured, feeling emotional as the last of your barriers crumbled. Negan hadn't done this to spite Michael or to establish some sick sense of ownership; he cared about you. “This is the nicest thing that anyone's done for me in a long time.”

You kissed him sweetly, smearing the tomato sauce all over his lips. Rather than shy away, he cupped the nape of your neck with a satisfied _mmmhhh_ as his tongue lapped at your bottom lip. 

“We have three hours,” he reminded you, and you returned to your pizza with the realization that your time was limited.

“Who’s watching the babies?” You wondered aloud.

“Simon and Arat,” he chuckled, and you joined in.

“Is it wrong to say I miss them already?” You set your plate aside when you'd finished eating, reclining against the pillows so that you could study the starry sky.

“That’s what I love about you,” Negan said, shifting closer so that you could snuggle against his chest. “You love my daughter like your own.”

“It was bound to happen, mothers bond through breastfeeding, and it’s hard not to love her chubby little face. The way she giggles…”

“The way her face scrunches up when she’s mid-shit.” He shook his head. “I still can’t believe that someone so cute can make something so horrendous.”

The night went on in a similar fashion, trading stories back in forth of the kids, your hands gradually wandering to his chest to finger the buttons of his shirt. Unable to resist, you worked several of the buttons through their holes, brushing the downy hair just above his belt.

Hell, life's too short.

Taking the hint, he leaned into your touch, rolling you onto your back and settling between the cradle of your hips. It’d been so long since you’d had someone like this, since you’d chased this high and felt the delicious feeling of that knot in your belly tightening. Rolling your hips, you felt his erection press against your mound and sighed at the friction.

“Y/N,” he trailed, dropping his head to the column of his throat. “I didn’t plan to this for…"

“I know,” You assured him, cupping his chin. “It’s okay, and we can do just a little. We already live together — why be traditional now?”

His hands wandered to your exposed midriff, and you found yourself unconsciously holding your breath as he slowly drew your shirt over your head. Rather than shy away from his intense gaze, you reveled in it. You’d never felt so beautiful, so desired. 

You decided to unclip your bra, tossing it in no particular direction before working on his shirt. Negan shrugged it off quickly, his head dipping to take a pebbled nipple into his warm mouth. The warmth of his bare skin against yours was intoxicating, and you already missed the feeling.

A vain attempt to smother a throaty groan, you bit your lip, and his eyes flickered to the movement. “That feel good, sweetheart?”

“You know it does.” You pushed his face back to your other breast, and he swirled his tongue around the nub, nipping at the peaked flesh until you were meeting his thrusts with your own,  the rough material of his zipper dragging across your clit through the thin material of your leggings. “Wait, Negan. Right there, _oh_ —” 

“God, I can’t wait to fuck you like this, baby. Have you squirming on my dick,” he panted into your ear, and you moaned as he gripped your ass, pulling your pelvises tightly together. 

The dam broke, releasing a sharp warmth that poured down your spine as you vaguely realized Negan groaning hotly into your neck as he came with short, jerky thrusts.

“Shit,” You gasped.

“Yeah.” Negan nuzzled your damp hairline, chuckling. “Think the earth might have moved.”

* * *

  **Meanwhile…**

“How hard can this be?” Simon stared at the two infants who regarded him with curiosity. 

“Alright, let's get some things straight," he started. "So that you know, your mama ain't here to feed yah so we'll have to put a pin in that one,  the screaming ain't worth it. Let's also keep the shitty diapers to a minimum. I'm not fond of that...activity.”

Ben spat out his pacifier, his face contorted in deep concentration as if he couldn’t decide which one he wanted to do first. Quick as a whip, Simon popped the pacifier right back into his mouth.

"Not tonight, kid."

“Nice,” Arat taunted, having knocked before quietly entering. “You know that won’t work forever, right?”

“It’s my go-to,” Simon retorted, finding it difficult to look away from the woman he’d been secretly pining after for months. She’d let her hair down and it hung in soft waves, her usual attire traded for just a baggy t-shirt and leggings. Beautiful. He’d only change the shirt; he wanted it to be his that she wore. “You wan’a try before he starts screaming his head off?”

Arat undid Benny’s safety belt that had been holding him in place, and the infant stretched, offering her a gummy smile. “See? They just want out of their carriers.”

“Shit, yeah,” Simon mumbled, “that sounds right.”

They settled on the couch, and Simon retrieved some beers for them, the babies quiet and content to just be held.

As the night went on and they settled on a movie to watch,  _The Notebook,_ Simon slowly rubbed Clementine’s back as she dozed, chancing glances from the corner of his eye. “So, Negan and Y/N? That’s something, huh?”

“'Bout time.” Arat shrugged. “They've been tripping over each other for weeks.”

“Don’t think it’s too soon?”

“When you want something, timing shouldn’t matter. We could die tomorrow." 

Simon thought that she sounded uncharacteristically bashful.

“Yeah, timing,” Simon mumbled, drawing in a deep breath. He spared Clementine a look, and she seemed to say, ‘Now’s your chance.’ So he decided to take it. “You maybe want to—”

Benny squealed, loudly, having spit out his pacifier. He cooed, nuzzling against Arat's chest with a drowsy smirk that seemed to be directed right at him. Simon knew it was irrational to be jealous of a baby, but...damn.

For what it's worth, Simon had to admit the kid had perfect timing. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan's on a spiel, but you know what? That's okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, its been a while, but i'm feeling inspired and i hope you are too. xxxxxxx
> 
> edit: have you guys seen the season 10 trailer??? also, WALKING DEAD THE MOVIE????!?!?! thoughts and concerns?

The warm water hit your skin in rivets, teasing your overly sensitive skin as plumes of steam became disrupted by your shallow breathing. A deep inhale. Your abs tightened with the effort to swallow a throaty cry. A sharp exhale. The high-pitched whine bounced off the porcelain.

“The kids,” Negan spoke the gentle reminder into your mound, working a third finger into your clutching walls. As if you could forget that they were mere feet away, blissfully asleep.

You whimpered a pathetic, needy sound before clamping your hand over your mouth as you bucked your hips against his searching tongue. He happily complied, all soft grunts and hums of pleasure as he buried his face between your thighs; the leg he’d thrown hastily over his shoulder was the only thing holding you upright as the convulsions of your core wrung your body dry. 

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Negan exhaled, the warm air brushing against your sex, pulling a breathy moan from your throat. 

A good morning indeed.

* * *

“How was your date last night?”

Much to Arat’s chagrin, you’d demanded a day in bed. The kids were enjoying being half-dressed and out of the heat, and you were basking in the afterglow of an earlier morning orgasm. If you could describe your prior sex life as a book, it would be a dusty, old tomb tucked deep in the recesses of a decrepit building. It wasn’t an outright exaggeration to say you’d forgotten what the aftermath of a mind-blowing orgasm could do and you swore your skin was glowing more so than usual. 

Adjusting Benny on your breast, you found yourself blurting out, “We rubbed fronts.”

“Rubbed…fronts?” Arat repeated slowly, her eyes trained on Clementine who was getting some tummy time beside her on the bed.

“You know…” You cocked your head. “Dry humping.”

“On the first date? You slut.”

“I will admit it was a bit out of my character,” You said, rolling your eyes as you recalled this morning in the shower. Ergo, Negan’s skilled tongue. “For the record, I regret nothing.”

“As you shouldn’t,” she said. “Not that we’ve discussed your sexual _re-awakening_ , can we move onto what’s really bothering you?”

Typical Arat, never one to dance around things; she’d much rather cut through the bullshit, preferably with her favored Bowie knife.

You worried your lip briefly, wondering whether your inner-turmoil was that obvious. Of course, it was. “I have a question, and as my friend, I need you to be brutally honest with me — no coddling.”

Arat gave you a blank stare. “Y/N, it’s me.”

“I know, that was more for my benefit than yours,” You sighed. “Okay, here it is  — and I hate to be that person, but I can’t shake this feeling that we’re going to crash and burn, you know? And then what? It’s more than us, Arat. He called us a family and I’m terrified that if we don’t work out it’ll all vanish and I’ll be alone again. I can’t imagine a life without him or Clem…”

“Have you talked to Negan about this?” You shook your head, burping Ben distractedly. “There’s your problem then,” she pointed out, “if you have this fear and it’s as overwhelming as you make it out to be then you’d benefit from talking about it rather than drowning in your anxiety.”

“You’re right, of course,” You sighed. “I’m just scared.”

“Believe me. I get it.” She paused to soothingly rub Clementine’s back once she’d begun to fuss. “That’s how you know, you know? When you have something so good that you’re absolutely terrified of messing it up somehow.”

The room lapsed into silence as you contemplated the simple wisdom that your friend had offered. They were wise words, all things considered, but like all forms of advice, it wasn’t usually followed by the giver. Easier said than done, and all that bullshit. 

“So are we going to ignore the elephant in the room,” You trailed meekly. “You and Simon…”

“It’s complicated,” she said, thankfully not upset. 

Arat had a wicked temper, enough said.

“I’m all ears,” You offered. “What exactly is it that’s bothering you?”

“What else?” she said, gathering Clementine in her arms as she began to fuss. “I think it’s the fear of loss that scares me the most. Every time I look at Simon, I see everything I could have and could lose in the same instance, it’s exhausting, Y/N. I don’t know how you do it.”

Truthfully, you wondered the same thing. Mostly, motherhood was winging it and hoping your kids turned out to be half-decent human beings. You'd always known that, had anticipated it. What you hadn't done was factored walking corpses into the equation.

Huh, funny how life works that way.

“Arat, I think you’re building all the walls you have to climb,” You said, completely sympathizing on her part. “Sadly, loss is the norm now, and you’re right, there is so much at risk, and we could lose it all in an instant; but it _is_  a risk worth taking. You’re so intelligent and brave. I don’t have to tell you that not taking a chance on what you and Simon have is an even bigger loss."

“You read that in your mom book?” she softly asked, her face softening as Clementine’s whimpers died down, a small hand fisting the fabric of her shirt just above her heart.

“Nah, I think I’m finally getting a handle on this parenting thing.”

* * *

“Is it too soon to say,” Negan wondered aloud, “ _you know..?_ ”

“You’re thinking about the ‘l’ word already?” Simon exhaled with a slight cough, wisps of smoke clinging to his person. “I take it the date went well?”

The smirk the other man wore betrayed his otherwise casual demeanor. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Damn,” Simon cursed softly, stubbing out his cigarette as his eyes scanned the group of Savior’s working to fix the forklift they’d broken yesterday. “Brock, you dumbass! Lift with your goddamn knees before I break them!” A pause. “What the fuck was I saying?”

“…talkin’ bout my date last night.” Negan whistled a jolly tune, his form lax against the hood of his truck. “I tell you, man. I’m smitten — _all in_.”

“You’re all in? You’re serious,” the other man asked, sounding doubtful. “How can you know someone in less than two months, enough to say you're all in?”

“I’m not a dumbass, Simon. I know I did some stupid-ass shit in the past, but I’m a changed man. Believe this — having a kid matures the shit out of a person. You think I’d let Y/N around my kid if I didn’t think she was a decent human being? Hell no, I did my research."

Simon began to protest, "I didn't—"

"Doc mentioned she would help in the clinic when they were short-staffed, even after working her assigned shifts in the garden. I know that she’s knitting the elderly scarves for this upcoming winter and there’s a family on the fourth floor she’s been giving rations," Negan said. "My point, Simon. You never really _know_ a person, just what they want you to see, and I’ve seen more than enough.”

Obviously, on a spiel, Negan continued, “She’s this precious thing I don’t even want to taint. Fuck me. I mean its crossed my mind every goddamn day — she’s too good for me. But I see the way she handles Clem, and I think my daughter deserves the best, and that’s Y/N. I fucking love her for that, and eventually, I’m gon’a love her for taking a chance on my sorry ass.”

“Easy, brother. I’m not tryna shit in your pie,” Simon placated. “I’m just wondering how the hell you know what you’re doing? There are so many ‘what-if’ factors. It’s overwhelming.”

“C’mon, asshole.” Negan clapped Simon on the back, a rare display of affection. “Just bite the fucking bullet and tell Arat how you feel. We’re all getting tired of ya’ll just buzzing around each other like, well — flies on dog shit,” he said. “What you need is a grand gesture.”

“A grand gesture,” Simon echoed. “I don’t know, man. She doesn’t seem like the kind of woman to go for that kind of thing. Maybe I should get her a six-pack or something?”

“That shit’ll work, too.” Negan shrugged, turning his attention back to the men who were managing to fuck up the most straightforward command. He thought about cursing them out and shrugged the idea off, not wanting to jeopardize the high he was currently riding. “We deserve something good, too. It shouldn't matter how many 'what-ifs' are fucking floating around, Si. We're Saviors. When the fuck have we ever held ourselves back because of a risk?”

“Huh, you get that from a book?”

“Nah, I’ve just got this parenting shit down to a _t_.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saturday’s are for the boys — someone should tell Negan and Simon that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhg, i laughed and cried when i wrote this. i hope you will too. x
> 
> inspo for this chapter: Say Love by James TW & Young Blood by Noah Kahan

Five words: Saturday’s are for the boys.

It was a phrase that Simon had so eloquently used to describe the reason for the night’s activities.

Arat had immediately rolled her eyes, calling him sexist.

You had only one question: “How the hell do you know it's Saturday?”

Negan had been uncharacteristically sheepish about the whole thing, and you’d been quick to assure him that he had nothing to worry about, not every minute of his free time had to be devoted to you. He had a life before the baby, and it was important that as your partner, he maintained his social ties so as not to resent your presence in his life unconsciously, ultimately viewing you as a hindrance.

Or at least, that’s what your mom book said.

A lot of useful stuff in that book. 

You flicked to a page that you’d bookmarked: _So You’re (Finally) Alone And Horny?_

“Riveting.” You took another sip of wine, courtesy of Arat, sinking deeper into the tub.

They even had pictures _._

Your eyes leisurely scanned the pages. As you read, luxuriating in your bubble bath, the aroma of rose and ginseng filling the candle-lit bathroom, Ray LaMontagne softly crooning in your ear; the thought passed your mind — _should you feel guilty that with Negan’s absence you’d secretly pawned the babies off to Doctor Carson and his wife for the night?_

You shook your head, softly chuckling at your devious little plan. “Nah.”

As far as you were concerned, Saturday was now Mommy’s time.

You couldn’t resist the small giggle that escaped your lips, realizing then that you might have had more wine then you’d meant too. Ever since you’d found the solution to Clementine’s aversion to bottle-feeding, a cold nipple that only needed to be slightly warmed, and discovered manual breast pumping, you’d found yourself with a lot of free time on your hands — which you’d gladly filled with alcoholic beverages.

Pleased with how you’d internally rationalized the entire situation, you returned to your book.

**Chapter 24: So You’re (Finally) Alone And Horny?**

_Self-pleasure is a self-expression of love. Take time to explore your new body personally, and remember, it’s alright to feel unsure at first. Your body has changed in ways that may incite negative feelings, a commonality that all woman face. With patience, understanding, and a gentle touch, you can overcome this period of postpartum._

_A mantra to repeat aloud: You are beautiful, and your body is powerful. I have carried life, and these changes are a reminder of my endurance and strength._

_Taking this into consideration, here are some examples of self-pleasure that we urge you to try._

Your eyes widened, turning the book to study the diagram. “I don’t think my body can do that,” You murmured, continuing to read.

_Be resourceful. Alone time may come few and far in-between — but fear not! — several minutes may be all that you need._

“Holy shit!” You breathed, suddenly eyeing the detachable showerhead. “I have to try this…like now.”

Negan had been busy lately, like really busy, which meant that most nights he collapsed into bed long after you and the kids had gone to sleep, flinging a heavy arm across your waist with a tired sigh before succumbing to exhaustion. And that was fine, there’d been two other (mind-blowing) times in the shower since your first date, and lots of lazy kisses and an abundance of cuddling. It was more than enough.

But the idea of handling your own pleasure, on your own terms…

Huh, why was the idea so foreign to you? You’d done it countless times in the past. But come to think of it, you'd spent the last several months covered in baby shit, and there was nothing sexy about that.

“Oh, fuck…” The steady water pressure brushed against your folds, softly tickling. You’d been skeptical about masturbating underwater but now — your eyes widened, head falling against the rim of the tub as you clutched your wine glass. “Oh — _oh_!”

Okay, so this was usually the time to fantasize, right? You quickly tried to conjure an image in your head, chasing the soft heat that was beginning to quickly crest in your belly. 

Clean laundry. 

Negan _folding_ the clean laundry.

That did it.

“Ahh, yes! _Yes_!” Your hips bucked, directing the stream of water firmly against your clit, thighs burning with the effort to keep your legs open. Damn. You needed that. “Okay, maybe just one more ti—”

“What the hell is going on in here?” The bathroom door swung open, denting the drywall and you barely kept your wine glass from tumbling into the water, jumping from the sudden intrusion. Negan stumbled through the doorway, eyeing your setup. “Y/N?”

“What the hell, Negan?” You yelled, heart racing and mentally questioning the drunken smile that slowly began to morph his expression.

“There I was, feeling all guilty about leaving you alone with two babies,” he gestured around the room, “and here you are, romancing yourself and getting off with Mr. Faucet.”

“Well, you know what happens when you assume…” You leisurely sipped your wine. “Also, its called self-love.”

Negan stumbled forward, kneeling beside the tub. “I’m all for self-love, sweetheart.” 

“How drunk are you?”

“I could ask you the same question.” You both quieted, assessing one another’s sobriety. “Need some help?”

“I don’t know,” You said, pretending to contemplate it, “this _is_ meant to be my alone time.”

“We could be alone together,” he hinted.

“Fine.” You feigned exasperation, simultaneously casting a sly glance towards your book. You could totally check number two off your list if you played your cards right. “I’m not putting my wine down, though.”

“No one asked you to…” His hand dipped below the warm water, fingers gliding across the slickness between your legs. Despite the temperature, you shivered as he thumbed your erect clit and palmed your mound. With rapt attention, he watched his hand move, eyes wide and slightly glassy, cheeks flushed from the steam.

God, he was so precious.

He reached for your book to set it aside and you gave it over without a thought, realizing only after what you’d done. “Holy shit,” he breathed, twisting the book upside down. “Is this porn?”

“I'll have you know that it is not porn — but educational material.”

“So you’re alone and horny,” he deadpanned, reading aloud. “Honey, if it acts like a duck and walks like a duck—”

“Don’t compare my porn to a feathered creature — such a turnoff,” You huffed.

He hummed absentmindedly, dropping the book. “I think I’m going to try number five."

Oh—

“ _God_ , Negan.” The water splashed dangerously close to the end of the tub, your hips bucking to meet his fingers. 

There’d been no soft teasing or foreplay. He’d sunken three fingers in between your legs, bringing one of your knees to your chest so that he could watch his fingers enter you in quick succession.

“Think I need to curl my fingers more,” he mumbled to himself.

Stars danced across your vision, the edges darkening as he shamelessly groped the front wall of your sex, reaching for that spot that made you cry out louder than the detachable showerhead ever could as he fingered you through the entirety of your orgasm.

“Good?” he asked, eyeing your slumped figure.

You panted, breasts heaving. It drew Negan's eye, and he dipped forward, tonguing a hardened tip. 

Taking a shaky sip of wine, you cleared your throat. “I mean, it was okay.”

He scratched his beard, blinking. “Sex always makes me hungry. Let’s go to the kitchen.”

“Can I bring my wine?”

“Bring the bottle.”

* * *

**Meanwhile, several floors below the drunken couple…**

Simon stumbled, barely catching himself and managing not to drop the single bottle of beer he held. Yeah, in his haste he’d forgotten the six-pack him and Negan had previously agreed upon, but the effort was still there, and she’d see that — she had to.

“Arat, I have…” He paused, shaking his head, steps faltering as he neared his intended destination. “Arat, what are we doing — _yeah, that’s good_ — we’re holding ourselves back from something good…unless you…you don’t think…”

“Shit,” he softly cursed, eyeing her door and immediately feeling like an ass. 

He couldn’t do this. She deserved better than him. Someone who wasn't so impatient and knew how to cook something other than scrambled eggs. Someone not so abrasive and more attentive to minute details.

He mentally stopped running from the exhaustion that had been relentlessly pursuing him for years, his back meeting and sliding against the wall adjacent to her door, collapsing in a heap onto the floor.

He couldn’t do this, and it broke his heart to admit it.

Still, he couldn’t help but think that no-one could love her like he could. There wasn’t anyone who could understand her, not like he did. He saw her, scars and all. And when he took a step back, he could see that they were terrifyingly alike, mirrored pieces. 

He knew what it meant to spend night stitching up the loose threads of your soul and having to be this impenetrable person by the time the sun rose the next day. For a short time, in the beginning, he’d thought that they could share that burden.  

He closed his eyes, conjuring a mental image of her sweet face. “Arat, I have loved you for years, and I am so sorry that it took me this long to tell you that.  Remember that—”

Simon blinked blearily, halting his drunken rambling as he realized Arat was standing in her open doorway, probably had been this entire time. 

His heart seized.

She studied his sprawled form, head cocked. “Go on.”

“Oh, uh, shit,” he said, scrambling to his feet. He offered her the beer, and she took it. “For you. It's the drink you had the night we celebrated your initiation into the Saviors. Tony challenged you to a drinking and shooting contest, and you drank—”

“Eight,” she finished fondly, remembering. “I hit every target, and he ended up shooting himself in the foot.”

“After that night, I thought you were a certifiable badass,” Simon admitted. “And I remember thinking, _that’s the kind of woman I want to have my back for the rest of my life_.” He swallowed heavily, continuing, “Look, I know I act like a jackass most of the time, and you get those headaches from the number of times you roll your eyes in my presence…but I’m asking for a chance, Arat, that’s all.”

God, he’s rambling, rambling so hard that he briefly reminded himself of Y/N.

“You’re my best friend, my partner, the only one who sees this world as I do — you’ve made my life worth living — but I can’t spend another day where I can’t call you mine. I’m in love with you so fucking much it hurts,” he admitted. 

He's shaking so much that he's surprised he even managed to get the words out. 

“…say that again,” she ordered. Her face flushed, giving away her unfazed demeanor.

“I love you,” Simon drunkenly declared, hands outstretched. “I have always loved you. Honest to God, I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.”

Arat bit her lip, a shy smile forming on her lips. “Yeah?”

He stepped forward. "Yes."

He’d been a fool, and he could admit that. They'd spent years apart for no other reason than his doubts, but he had her now and thats all that mattered. He’d chase her to the next world and the one after that. All so that he could hold her and kiss her like he was now.

She blushed, admitting, “I love you, too.”

Holy shit. He’d finally done it. 

He kissed her like the world was ending and the ground was crumbling beneath their feet, his hands twining around her waist and bringing their heaving chests closer. “I will always love you," Simon promised.

“Simon?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“I don’t do hand-holding in public, and I expect to have a date night once a week,” she said, nudging her door open in invitation, “and don’t expect me to turn into some doting girlfriend. You kiss me in front of the guys, and I’ll punch you in the teeth.”

Simon grinned, hopeful. “Wouldn’t dream of it, and deal.”

The door closed with a soft click.

And that’s how it began, not with a grand gesture but with slurred words and the courage to take a chance, despite the risk of losing it all.

* * *

Where Negan had so delicately deposited you onto the kitchen counter, you marveled at his expertise. He’d chopped onions, lettuce, tomatoes and was painstakingly putting together the best looking turkey sandwiches you’d ever seen in your life.

Or maybe you were just that drunk. 

You took another sip of wine, thoughtful. 

“I still can’t believe that the all-powerful, fearless leader of the Saviors is making me a sandwich.” You feigned shock and awe.

“Sweetheart, its _fuck-awesome_ all-powerful, fearless leader of the Saviors,” he softly joked, “and I’ll have _you_ know that by enforcing stereotypical gender roles you’re not only hurting me but women as well.”

“Oh, my god.” You snorted, throwing a chip at him. “Shut up.”

Negan bit his lip, finishing both sandwiches with a flourish. You thanked him softly, fondly regarding the man’s hunched frame as he devoured his food. He had such a beautiful soul, and unbelievably was the kindest person you’d ever met. He made others work for it and jump a shit-ton of hoops in the process, but the effort was returned tenfold when he showed his true colors.

Your eyes watered as you chewed. The word boyfriend paled in comparison and couldn’t describe a tenth of what he meant to you, the role that he played in your life.

“Sweetheart, why the hell are you crying?” He stepped between your spread legs. You held him close, breathing in the scent of his aftershave and the lingering cigar smoke that clung to his shirt. “You run out of wine?” he softly teased.

“No, it's just…” You buried your head in the crook of his neck. One part for comfort, the other part because you were so close to just blurting it out. “I’m just happy, that’s all. When I found out that I was pregnant with Benny, I was so afraid of being alone for the rest of my life; but now I'm here, and I'm not alone, I have amazing friends. Clementine. You.”

He brushed his lips against yours, pressing soft kisses on both eyelids before kissing both ears. “You are the most beautiful, kindest, and soulful woman that I’ve ever met. I am never, _ever_ leaving your side, Y/N.”

You blinked away your tears. “You promise?”

“Hell yeah, I’m gonna need you to keep me from killing _at least_ every other punk that thinks he can even breathe near my daughter. I've already thought this all through. I’ll teach Benny how to shoot and use those assholes as target practice. Kill two birds with one stone, you know? Wait…” Negan regarded you slightly. “Where’s this coming from, baby?”

“Negan, why haven’t we had sex yet?” You asked, completely changing the subject. ‘Cause, you know? Wine. “Do you think that I’m like loose down there or..?”

“It’s not that,” he said, taking a step back to study between your legs. “I mean, have you been doing your kegels? You need to strengthen your pelvic floor, especially postpartum.”

“Negan, get away from there!” You struggled in his grip, dissolving into drunken giggles as Negan silently shook with laughter. “Never mind! I’ll ask when you’re sober.”

“I’m sober enough,” he protested, “sober enough to tell you that the reason I’ve been waiting to plow the shit out of you is that I want it to be special, sweetheart. Trust me. I’ll be fucking your brains out in no time, and you’ll be walking bow-legged and everything.” He cuddled you closer, nuzzling your neck. “I. Am. Going. To. _Wreck_. You.”

“You’re so romantic, Negan. You know? It’s your charm that made me fall for you.” You carried on casually, reaching for your glass of wine and wondering aloud about the babies. “It’s getting late and I…”

Holy shit.

It was a slip of the tongue, you’d been partially joking and were wine drunk. All those reasons crossed Negan’s mind as he realized that you’d technically just confessed your love for him.

He double-checked to make sure his heart hadn’t really fallen out of his ass. 

Holy _fucking_ shit.

“Negan?” You snapped your fingers in front of his face. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sweetheart.” His lips found your temple again, attempting to calm his racing heart. “Since the moment you stepped into my life.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lazy Sunday in bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: i know nothing about breastfeeding and child-rearing techniques so if my research is off, forgive me. x

You had a love/hate relationship with the cold.

The Sanctuary tended to be naturally chilly, and with winter approaching you were finding yourself more reluctant to leave your bed. The only positive of the impending weather was the fact that you could crawl beneath the many layers of blankets and cuddle with Negan. 

For all the blood that had been spilled by his hands, Negan had the most gentle touch, and each morning he’d devote a handful of minutes to just hold you before he had to leave and start his day. Nimble fingers dragged along the in-seam of your thighs as he laid soft kisses along your neck, fitting your curves against the hard planes of his chest.

This morning wasn’t any different, but you savored it like it was your first time.

“Well, good morning to you.” You yawned as he canted his hips forward, sliding a leg between your thighs and pressing firmly against the swell of your ass. Heat spilled down your spine, warming you from the inside. “ _Both_ of you.”

He was absolutely sinful in the early hours: hooded eyes, hair mussed, and voice rough with sleep. “Good morning, sweetheart. A fine morning, indeed,” he drawled.

The dullish hues of dawn filtered into the room, just enough light so you could follow the path of his wandering hand, the imprint of your nipple against your shirt as he teased it into submission.

“Babies asleep?” You asked, your speech broken by another yawn. 

“Yeah. Thank fuck for that, huh?" he murmured. “Think we can get into a little _something_ before then?”

You shifted beneath his hand, unsure whether you wanted to lean into his touch or shy away from it. “I don’t know, Negan. Isn’t it a little weird with them here?”

You were tempted to consult your book — _So You’re A Mom Now? —_ for advice regarding the situation. You weren’t exactly sure, but fooling around in the same room that your children were currently sleeping in seemed like a surefire way to screw up their childhood.

“Please,” he scoffed. “They’re asleep, and we’ll be quiet.”

“I know,” You trailed, “but what if they subconsciously absorb something and they end up turning into little sociopaths. I don’t want to raise a _Norman Bates_ , Negan.”

He stopped the trail of kisses along your shoulder, and you were tempted to tell him to continue. “Statistically we're bound to raise one sociopath. Hate to break it to you, baby, but your genes don’t stand a chance against mine. We’re playing with fire.”

Your heart raced at his nonchalant confession. “You want me to have your babies?”

A little girl came to mind with Negan’s pretty green eyes and a mischievous grin.

“Hell yeah, I want you to have a shit ton of my babies, baby. How many times do I have to tell you that you’re mine?” Negan shifted settling between your legs that betrayed you, accommodating for the body that so nicely nestled between your thighs. “Maybe I should just show you,” he said suggestively. “How about a little early morning loving?” 

He rolled his hips, the stiffness of his erection brushing against your clit through the thin layer of your panties. 

“Fine, just a little,” You moaned quietly.

God, did this man know how to chip away at your reserve or what?

He gradually increased the exposed skin between the band of your underwear and the hem of your shirt, laying sweet kisses along the softness of your belly, and paying close attention to your stretch marks. You embraced it, unabashedly guiding his mouth across the expanse of skin. The way he handled you, so gently and lovingly, there wasn’t any room for self-consciousness. How could there be? Not when he looked at you with such adoration.

It was addictive, and you desperately wanted to forget the world and fall into him because to you, he was endless, and with him, you felt infinite. 

The warmth of his tongue traced along your sternum, nipping at the bottom swell of your breast. You cupped the nape of his neck, arching your back to chase his warmth. 

“Tell me what you need, sweetheart.” He brushed the request against your lips, teasing them with his own. “Or don’t, I could do this all morning.”

You drew in a ragged breath, attempting to collect yourself as best as you could with the taste of him still lingering on your lips. “I need you,” You whined, eagerly raising your arms so that he could remove your shirt. 

His tongue traced the valley between your breasts, and he made a quiet comparison of your soft skin to warm silk, pressing you harder into the mattress. “Like this?” he teased.

“I want more, Negan.” Your hands tangled in his hair, holding him impossibly closer but still, it wasn’t enough. “I’m burning,” You choked. 

“I know, sweetheart. Go on and say it,” he urged. “Tell me. Do you want me to keep touching your soft breasts or dip my fingers between your pretty thighs?”

“Both,” You said. “I want your mouth on my breasts and your fingers inside me. I want you to fuck me so hard I feel it tomorrow morning. Please, touch me.”

“…been waiting for you to say that, sweetheart. I can feel how wet you are,” Negan groaned lowly, the sound muffled between your breasts. You arched further, and he took the offer, catching a nipple in his mouth and immediately suckling. His cheeks hollowed, and his fingers glided between your legs, quickly sinking two fingers into your wet heat. “Is this for me?”

“Just you.” The words escaped around a choked whimper as you barely refrained from keeping your screams at bay. “I only want you.”

Negan hummed in agreement, switching to your other breast as his fingers pressed deeper, stroking your dewy folds and savoring the soft clutching of your walls. “I could spend every morning like this. Would you like that? My tongue buried deep in your pussy while you screamed my name and fucked yourself on my tongue?"

“Its a date,” You panted.

He flicked his wrist, mashing his palm against your clit and encouraging you to press against his searching fingers. “Right here?”

“The left. To the left a little.” His fingers dragged along your front wall, touching you slowly yet deliberately, the faint sound filling the room as you thoroughly coated his fingers.

"Here, baby?"

Your answering whimper was all the assurance he needed, and his attention soon fell to your breasts, his soft noises of delight reverberating against your sensitive skin and pooling in your belly. He fucked you lovingly, listening to each sigh and moan that brushed against his ear, his tongue wrapped around a peaked breast.

“Negan, wait.” The familiar feeling, a tossup between a subtle flush of warmth and a slight tingling, alerted you to the let down of your breastmilk. You squirmed in his grip, but he held you firm.

“Is that?” He drew his head back slowly.

“My breastmilk,” You finished. “You were, uh, sucking too hard I think.” Curiosity got the best of you. “What does it taste like?”

His fingers, which were still inside you, began to move slowly, collecting your wetness and slicking your sex. “It’s sweet,” he finally said, with an intense look of concentration on his face. 

A drop of milk beaded atop your nipple and he caught it, rubbing it across the overly sensitive tip.

“Let me up.” You were beyond embarrassed for several reasons. While breastfeeding was natural, you’d never thought you would be, erm, feeding an adult. Of all people, Negan. “Negan?” You poked him, hoping to shake him from his stupor.

“Wait.” He dipped his head, tonguing the other breast. 

The taste flooded his mouth again, and this time, he was prepared, swallowing the mouthful. After a quick deliberation, he decided — for some strange ass reason he didn’t care to explore — that he didn’t mind the taste or the act.

"I love having you on my tongue," he paused to moan; an actual moan, needy and hot, "love tasting you."

Your stomach muscles contracted, heat spilling onto his hand as you abruptly came, riding his fingers with his encouragement, apprehension quickly becoming eclipsed by your release. You fell apart in his hands — for some strange reason you didn’t care to explore — muffling your screams with one hand, the other hand keeping him at your breast. 

“Oh, god.” You pushed him away, breathless. “What the hell was that?”

He grinned, his lips shiny and wet. “Was wondering what all the fuss was about.”

“Okay, enough. I never thought I’d say this but… _save some for the kids_.” You didn't deny that it wasn’t pleasurable — it was just — well, greedy. “I’m going to go shower,” You murmured, gingerly cupping your breasts and inspecting them. “I’m sore because of you, and I think it’s only fair that I request waffles for breakfast.”

“It’s a done deal.” He licked his lips, winking.

Slipping on your discarded shirt, you replied, “Well, don’t you look like the cat that got the cream.”

“But you liked it, right?”

You gave a very un-ladylike snort, shutting the bathroom door in his face.

“Right?” he hollered through the door. One second. Two. You silently counted, reaching eight before the babies were full-on screaming. “Shit,” You heard him mutter. 

Figuring that he could handle both babies for a couple of minutes, you decided to get ready for a day in bed. Negan had devoted his day to you and the children, and you wanted to selfishly savor every moment with him sans company. 

You went through the motions, only pausing to lather yourself in a vanilla body scrub before deciding to go help Negan. “You seem like you could use a little help, huh?”

It appeared that Ben had settled while Clementine was crying her little heart out, refusing to take her pacifier. 

“I don’t have tits, so there’s not really a lot I can do,” Negan volleyed back.

A knock at the door sounded, and he passed the baby off to you. She settled quickly, having gotten accustomed to your touch and smell, mouthing at your breast through the fabric of your shirt. You sat at the edge of the bed, lifting your shirt slightly and letting her latch.

“…the hell is Joe? He usually does the kitchen escort…”

“He’s out with a cold today,” Michael answered.

You caught the end of the conversation, curiosity taking your attention away from the nursing baby at your breast, having recognized the familiar face. It felt off somehow, having Michael in such an intimate setting. He lounged against the door frame while the staff laid out the breakfast spread. 

He caught your gaze before his eyes flickered downward to your exposed chest, and you immediately turned away, unsettled. They left shortly after but the feeling lingered long after he was gone.

“Here you are, my dear.” Negan gestured with a grand flourish, smothering your waffles with butter and syrup. 

You smiled, forgetting your uneasiness and taking a seat at the small table in the makeshift kitchen. He'd gotten the furniture shortly after you’d moved in, making it easier for you to eat and breastfeed at the same time. 

“Really good,” You mumbled around a bite. 

Before his ass could even hit the seat, Benny began to cry, and Negan immediately went to retrieve him, commenting, “I think he’s hungry.”

“You ate his breakfast,” You said wryly.

He had the decency to look sheepish before his face brightened. “There might be a bottle leftover in the mini-fridge.” A second later. “Ah-ha! You’re in look Benny-boy.” Ben gave a small grunt as if disagreeing but took the bottle, albeit a little reluctantly. “I get it,” Negan soothed him. “It _is_ better fresh from the tit.”

You had a witty retort poised at the tip of your tongue, which promptly died in your throat soon after you'd lifted your head to regard him.

If it were possible, your heart would have grown three sizes bigger in that moment. He was the perfect picture of domesticity, donned in his pajamas, reading glasses and burping cloth as he bottle-fed the baby.

“Why don’t we go back to bed?” Negan asked, oblivious to your staring. “It’s still early, and I could use a nap.”

You smiled, resisting the urge to scream it from the rooftops — _I love you_. “That sounds perfect.” 

It was more than perfect, but there wasn’t a word in your vocabulary that could accurately summarize the moments that you shared with your ready-made family. You’d returned to bed predictably, and all were lounging, each immersed in their on activity. Clementine was resting comfortably on her daddy’s chest, both lightly dozing while Benny entertained himself, wedged between you and Negan while you read.

“How many kids do you want?” 

You looked up from your book. “I don’t know, you?”

“Four or five, maybe.”

“Five. Total, right?” You blanched. “I think at that point they’ll just fall out.”

“Are you not doing your kegels? I told you, your pelvic floor—”

“Shut up about my pelvic floor,” You giggled. “Geez, can some things remain a mystery between us?”

“Fine,” he said. “Let me see what you’re reading.”

“It’s just about different childrearing techniques.”

“Rearing?”

“You know, like, parenting styles. How you’ll punish and raise your kids.” At his blank stare, you continued, “Negan, they won’t be our perfect angels forever.”

"I was a fucking trouble maker, truth be told. I spent more time over my dad’s knee than I did at school.” He looked uneasy, eyes distant. “I can’t imagine Clem turning into a little shit…I just can’t…my little pumpkin…” He clutched her tighter.

“I want them to stay tiny forever,” You agreed. 

“Alright, let's hear it.”

“Okay, uh...  _Your parenting skill will affect several factors that can have a detrimental impression on your child’s mental and physical development—_ ” You read aloud.

“So, we can fuck them up if we’re not good parents,” he scoffed. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

You agreed more or less, so you just skipped to the four main categories of parenting that your book listed. “Permissive parenting. Discipline isn’t rigorous, and you mostly let your children do what they want.”

“Uh, no.”

“Yeah, next one. Uninvolved parenting—”

“Next.”

“The last two are Authoritarian and Authoritative, two completely different things. The first being self-explanatory, communication is one-way, and expectations are high, and you discipline often. The latter being more common, parents are reasonable and nurturing, and set high, clear expectations.” You set the book down. “What do you think?”

He reached for his glasses, taking the offered book, and scanning the text. “These categories are shitty and expect us to compartmentalize our parenting based on generalized statements. I think we should create our own parenting style, and I sure as shit don’t want to physically punish our kids. I had my fair share of spankings,” he said, to which you quickly chimed in your agreement, “but it's just not what we’re going to do.”

“We do need to come up with a method of punishment, eventually.”

“I’m convinced my pumpkin will never do anything wrong,” he disagreed. “Clementine's too goddamn precious.”

“Oh, yeah? Two words. Teenage. Rebellion. What if Clementine sneaks out with a boy after her curfew?”

“Simple. I kill him.”

“What if it's a girl?” You challenged.

He gave you a look. “Then I get Arat to kill _her_. Y/N, you should know by now I don’t discriminate.”

“You can’t kill every person that is an accessory to their bad behavior.”

“Can I? Seems to me like you're underestimating my body count.”

“Well, what if Ben does something stupid?”

You both simultaneously glanced towards the infant who was quietly playing with his toy, he looked up, offering a gummy smile. Negan raised his brow. “Like?” 

“I don’t know,” You pouted, thoroughly defeated. In your eyes, Benny was absolutely perfect. “There will be something, someday. I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news, but one day they’re going to grow up, and I don’t know, resent us and act out? What if they want to leave the Sanctuary?” 

You hadn’t realized it was a genuine concern until you'd voiced it, and your chest tightened at the thought of your babies wanting more from life — to explore and experience the world beyond the factory. The idea of potentially losing your child, both metaphorically and literally, was heartbreaking. 

“Then we’ll handle it, together.” He clasped your hand, and for that moment, you dropped all your worries, taking comfort in his show of strength despite being clearly terrified as well. “They're ours for now.” 

His lips brushed the back of your hand. “Ours.”

* * *

**In another bed, the same morning…**

“What if I forget to put the toilet seat down every day and you get tired of falling in?” Simon proposed.

He studied their entwined fingers in the dim light, still reeling that she was his — and vice versa. 

“What if I’m not feminine enough for you and you get tired of my hardened exterior?”

They’d been volleying questions back and forth for several hours unable to sleep for obvious reasons, and in their own way, they’d begun to discuss their lingering fears.

There weren’t any voiced solutions yet but baby steps, you know?

“How about if I accidentally call you _honey_ in front of the boys?”

“Then I’d knee you in the balls,” Arat interrupted. “How about if I forget to say _I love you_ and you start to doubt if I do?”

“Well, shit,” he cursed.

Arat rolled onto her side so that she could fully face him, pulling the sheets forward to cover her naked breasts. Simon frowned, tugging at the blanket. “My thoughts exactly,” she agreed.

“I think that as long as we treat each other with respect and communicate when someone’s pissed, we’ll be fine,” he assured her slowly as the words came to his mind. 

It wasn’t easy, having to make a considerable effort to _try_ , but he’d do it for her.  

“You read that in a book?”

“I may have found a copy of that mom book Y/N’s always reading — there’s some good shit in there.”

Arat softly smiled, stroking a thumb across his ring finger. “I’ll have to read it sometime.”

Simon grinned, asking breathlessly, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

There wasn’t much talking after that, a silent agreement passing between the two writhing bodies that if they stood by each other’s side, there wasn’t anything that they couldn’t weather. 

* * *

**That same morning…**

“You’re out here pretty early.”

Michael studied the crouched woman elbow deep in manure. She brushed a few strands of hair back, spreading shit across her forehead. He didn’t have the heart to tell her she looked absolutely miserable, then again, she probably already knew that.

“They had an opening after Y/N left. I should be so lucky,” she sneered, her expression pinched.

“I get it.” Michael shrugged, realizing the extent of her animosity. “You’re pissed. I’m pissed. We should do something about that.”

She pursed her lips, figuring she had nothing left to lose. “What do you have in mind?”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plot twist brings forth pleasant confessions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AO3 has been adding random spaces between words and causing spelling errors after i copy and paste my work to the website. if i don't catch all the errors, i apologize. x

**Four months later…**

“You’re very cheerful today. You kill someone?” Simon asked, trying to decipher the smirk on Negan’s face. 

It was a toss-up between _I got some early morning loving_ , and  _I killed two fuckers before breakfast_. Simon was leaning towards the latter, having spoken to Arat, who was, contrary to popular belief, very open during pillow talk. 

Arat never disappointed, always coming to bed with the best gossip and he'd about fell out of the bed when she'd told him that Y/N and Negan had yet to fuck. That same night, after the initial shock, he'd concluded that you were ' _the one,_ ' and that Negan did love you.   

A year without sex? Damn. 

Later, he'd made a toast to Negan's balls — which were probably very blue.

“Not since yesterday, brother. Actually, I was thinking about Y/N. We’ve been —  _hey you!_ Yes,  _you._ ” Negan crooked his finger, and the Savior tentatively walked forward. He’d been watching his men unload the recent haul from the Satellite Outpost. To say they were fucking up was an understatement. 

“You're doing a shit-piss job right now, and I’m threatened to kick your ass, and believe me I want to, but I’ve got him strapped to my chest,” Negan continued to berate him, gesturing to Benny. “You know what? Why don’t I ask him if I should kick your ass?”

“Two blinks for  _yes_  and one for  _no_?” Simon suggested.

They watched Benny intently, who'd been contently gnawing on his hand. The baby looked up, sensing their attention and Negan brushed his hand across his chubby cheek. “Ben?” he cooed. 

Ben leaned into the touch, blinking once.

“Get back to work,” Simon ordered.

Negan clucked his tongue, halting the other man’s movements. “Hold on a sec, shitbag. I believe you owe my boy here some gratitude.”

The man gave the baby a once over, mumbling his thanks.

Benny grunted, waving a small fist.

“That means to get the fuck outta our sight,” Negan translated, watching the man stumble away before once again turning to Simon. “Now, where the fuck was I? Oh, yeah. Things have been good — more than that — fucking amazeballs. I don’t give a fuck if its too soon, Simon, I’m gon'a tell her I love her. Hell, we’ve already talked about having kids, so really we’re ass-backward right now. According to my calculations, I should have told her I loved her the first time I saw her sweet tits.”

“Should fix that,” Simon agreed, “and  _I_  can give you pointers.”

“Hey-o!” Negan clapped his shoulder. “Still can’t believe you grew a pair and told her. Fucking-A+, Si!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Simon said, attempting to escape Negan's makeshift chokehold. Ben laughed from being jostled, releasing a piercing yell, kicking his legs and actively grabbing for Simon too. “Do you see what you’re raising?” he laughed.

Negan beamed. “A damn fine kid.”

"Yeah, but don't you think—" Simon paused. "Can I help you?" 

Negan turned, regarding the man who’d been eavesdropping on their entire conversation.

The man in question had his eyes trained intently on Ben who’d continued to let out small shrieks and giggles periodically, tugging at Negan's shirt in hopes of getting his attention. “That your kid?” he inquired.

Negan frowned. “What the fuck is it to you, Gavin?”

Gavin cupped his eyes, shielding them from the beaming sun as he leaned closer towards the infant. “It’s nothing,” he said, abruptly walking away.

“That was weird,” Simon commented. 

Negan agreed.

* * *

“Look at my pretty girl!”

You were sure that you looked ridiculous, cooing, and singing to the baby. But Clementine was so stinking cute, and babies turned your insides to mush. 

You lifted her shirt, blowing another raspberry onto her stomach, pulling a hiccuping laugh from her mouth as she scratched at your face. 

“Who’s my happy baby?” You brushed your noses against each other, drowning in her sparkling blue eyes, and witnessing pure unadulterated happiness. “My baby,” You sighed, silently marveling at the spectacle that was your life.

If someone had told you fourteen (give or take) months ago that you’d end up with two kids, having given birth to only one, you would have scoffed in their face. 

But now — you turned your head, watching Clementine kick her legs as she let out a garbled scream — you couldn’t imagine another life.

“Don’t tell your dad, but I love him.” The smell of baby powder and lavender invaded your senses as you dragged your nose along her cheek. Her small hand cupped your face before she turned her head, drool dampening your cheek and the corner of your mouth. 

Maybe her version of a sloppy kiss? Either way, you took it as such.

“Of course I love you too, munchkin,” You cooed. 

Seemingly satisfied, Clementine shifted her attention to cramming as many fingers as she could into her mouth. 

Left to your own devices, you found yourself lounging in the last of the slowly dying sun. Temperatures were slowly dropping, and it would only be a matter of weeks before you were forced inside and stuck in a room with two babies. Something that you were silently dreading.

The crunching of grass alerted you to a nearing presence, and you reluctantly peeled your eyes open. Usually, the other factory attendants gave you a wide berth. 

“Hi.”

“Hi?” You sat up, taking Clementine into your arms. “Did Negan send you?”

The nameless man glanced over his shoulder, giving you a chance to study his profile. He was handsome, tall, and had a distinctive bone structure.

“My name’s Gavin,” he said. “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but I have to ask…that boy…the one strapped to Negan’s, um, chest? Is that his biological son?”

“Excuse me?” 

He held your elbow as you struggled to stand and you hastily batted away his efforts, looking for Arat who’d gone to the bathroom.

“Now and then the guys and I would hitch a ride to the Sanctuary, they have the best booze here, you know? Almost a year ago, at the bar, I met a woman, and I slept with her. I’m only asking you this because he looks just like me when I was a baby, a carbon copy. It was like seeing a ghost,” he quietly confessed. “I asked around, and they said he was your boy.”

“Oh —  _oh_ …” You said, because what else was there to say.

It was only Clementine’s soft weight against your chest that kept you from sprinting in the opposite direction of —  _this_. 

That night was a blur, but you distinctly remembered being so lonely that you’d done gone to the Sanctuary’s bar in search of company. They sold cheap liquor, and you had points to spare. Ben’s father, Gavin, had come along when you were vulnerable, and well, it’d been quick and dirty up against a wall.

“I never got your name…” You trailed lamely, remembering how you were — for lack of better terms — shitfaced. His necklace was familiar though, a silver chain with the name  _Londie_ inscribed on it.

“I barely remember anything about that night too, but that scrunchie is pretty memorable,” he said, pointing to the mustard yellow hair accessory that you usually used to pull back your hair.

You touched it gingerly.

“Oh.”

“Can I meet him?”

“What?” You blinked.

“My son.” 

The retort was on the tip of your tongue — ‘ _he’s not your son_ ’ — but that felt like a shitty thing to say. You’d never given him a chance, hadn’t even sought him out when you learned you were pregnant. 

He glanced at Clementine, squinting. “Is she ours too?” 

“No, she’s Negan’s,” You said, clearing your throat and attempting to gain some semblance of control. “How long are you here for?”

“A few days. I’m stationed at the Satellite Outpost, and I don’t usually make supply runs to the Sanctuary, but James was sick today.” He paused, deliberating something silently. “You and Negan, huh?”

“Yeah. Me and Negan,” You echoed lamely.

“He seems like a good replacement.” Gavin laughed, the sound stained with resentment. “You never even gave me a chance to be a father, but at least you’ve got yourself a picture-perfect family, huh?" 

“I didn’t think you’d want to be a father,” You said quietly.

“You made that assumption, not me,” he said. “Look, I’m not mad, but I’d really like to meet him. He’s the only family I got in this world.”

You were still carefully considering your response when Negan’s voice cut through the air like a sharp blade, for once, not mindful of the babies. “What in the _mc’fuckity-fuck_ do you think you’re doing within breathing distance of my goddamn wife, asshole? Even a blind fucker can see that she’s meant to be left alone.”

“Negan, wait.” You said, flinching under the weight of his heated expression. “This is, uh—”

“That’s  _my_ kid that you’re holding,” Gavin interrupted. 

You mentally willed him to shut up. He wasn’t making the situation any better, and in your arms, Clementine began to whine and shift restlessly. 

Despite his declaration, Negan remained unbothered, curling a protective arm around the baby. “What gives you the fucking audacity to come here and declare shit like it even fucking matters? You had your chance!”

“You don’t think I’d have left her if I’d known?”

Holy crap. In a matter of seconds, your life had become a soap opera. Their voices were steadily rising, and a small crowd of bystanders had begun to watch from a distance. 

“Stop! Just stop!” You attempted to quiet them both, coming to stand between them. “We can talk about this later, Gavin, but right now I need time to get my head around all this. I promise you’ll see Benny, okay? I owe you that. Just not now.” He nodded his agreement, and you pivoted, addressing Negan. “I want to leave. Now.”

Realizing that there were several spectators, Negan glared, quickly dispersing the crowd. “9 o’clock. Don’t be more than a second late or you’re fucked,” he snarled, grasping your elbow and quickly steering you toward the direction of the factory, your belongings forgotten.

* * *

“Fucking hell,” Negan sighed, collapsing heavily onto the couch. 

You’d barely held it together while you’d put the babies down for their nap, but with an absence of distraction, you had no choice but to succumb to your emotions. There was an overwhelming feeling of guilt bubbling in your chest as you replayed Gavin’s accusations, remembered his pained expression. 

Clearing your throat, you desperately attempted to keep your tears at bay. It was pointless, and you were soon sobbing. 

Negan pulled you onto his lap, appearing helpless. “Don’t cry, baby.” 

“What if he wants to take Benny?”  

“He’s not taking our son anywhere,” Negan scoffed. “Have faith in me, Y/N. It’s not like we have to go to court and win custody. I snap my fingers and—”

“No, Negan. I don’t want him dead.”

“Alright, just checking.”

“What are we going to do?” You sniffed. “I did deprive him of meeting his son. But how was I supposed to know he wanted to be apart of his life? Your group doesn’t have the best reputation when it comes to this stuff, you know?”

“They're a love’m and leave’m type,” Negan admitted, “but I see no reason to interfere in their personal lives as long as there isn't an STD epidemic.”

“He’s  _my_  baby, and fuck, I feel like an utter bitch when I think it…but I  _don’t_  want to share Benny,” You confessed quietly, feeling even guiltier once you’d voiced your thoughts.

His lips brushed along your shoulder, and you couldn’t help but lean into the embrace. Away from your shame and regret, and into his comfort. His hands had slowly begun to massage the tension from your shoulders, pushing the thin straps of your shirt further down your shoulders, and bearing the tops of your breasts. “You won’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, sweetheart.”

“You called me your wife,” You said softly, hating that the admission had been in the heat of the moment. Had he meant it or was it just something else?

He pressed a burning kiss between your shoulder blade, resting his head against the curve of your spine. A slight inhale, and you knew he was taking you in, holding you close and breathing in your perfume. “I meant it. You’re mine.”

“I know.”

Quieter, he said, “Tell me you won’t leave me for him, that you’re mine as much as I’m yours.”

“Negan.” You quickly rose, straddling his lap and crowding close, filling in all the gaps so that there isn’t room for doubt or hesitancy between you and him. “I promise to love you when we’re old and grey. To be as much of yours as you are of mine,” You vowed. “And when we have like eighty grandchildren, we’re going to tell them the story of how your first words to me were, ' _She won’t latch_.'”

He groaned softly. “You’re never going to let me live that done, are you?”

“Not even a ‘ _hi, how are you?_ ’ I don’t think so,  _husband_.” Your noses brushed, and you hugged him tighter, seeking his strength. 

“In that case,  _wife_. I promise that when you’re cold, I’ll hold you closer, and I'll always be there to draw you a bath when you need it. And when we’re old, I’ll tell our  _ninety_  grandkids, that their grandmother was the most beautiful women I’d ever seen, that I hesitated before even speaking those words — and I got to see your titties that day. FYI, I promise to love you even when they sag.”

“You’re an ass.” You punched him, lightly laughing and attempting to escape his wandering hands. “Negan?” You squealed, finding yourself on your back, cushions sailing across the living room and landing with muted thuds. “What are you doing?”

“Consummating our marriage. This is our wedding day, is it not?” He gave you a look as if to say,  _‘prove me wrong_.’

“Married after only a handful of months,” You awed aloud. “You must be desperate.”

“Hey! When you know, you know — and you do your damnedest to hold onto that person,” he said, pushing your jeans down your legs. “Now are you going to get naked or do I have to do everything? Marriage is 50/50, sweetheart.”

You shoved his face between your breasts for the sake of shutting him up, and he quickly became preoccupied with your bra strap.“This motherfucking thing,” he said before giving a triumphant shout as he tossed the offending fabric across the room.

You were quick to hush him, reminding him of the sleeping babies.

“Damn, you’re right,” he grumbled, fumbling with the clasp. “Might have to cash in a favor with Arat and Simon soon, huh?” He grinned wolfishly, licking a broad stripe across the waistband of your panties. “I want to hear you scream my name as you cream on my cock, sweetheart. Can't exactly do that now, can we?”

Your head fell against the couch cushion as you tried to temper your breathing. “God, you’re filthy.”

Negan mumbled something into the soft skin of your belly, fingers pressing against your mound before pulling the fabric of your bottoms taut against your sex, tonguing your folds through the thin material. 

The gasp that fell from your lips was too loud, and you clasped a hand over your mouth, the other going to your breast to roll the tight peaks of your breasts. “Negan, come on. I need to feel you now — want you inside me,” You moaned once you were sure you wouldn't scream.  

Even with your demand, he took his time once you were both fully nude, kissing along the swells of your breasts. He lazily drew patterns across the sensitive skin with his tongue as he rolled his hips forward, mimicking fucking but not quite. 

You understood the need to treasure this moment, the glide of his tongue across your warm skin and the muscles that bunched and tightened beneath your fingertips. But the urge to eagerly consume was there as well, the need to give and for Negan to take.

With a whimpered plea, you pressed your ankles into the small of his back, urging him to fuck you. The wetness from your center was beginning to drip, and you worried that you'd ruined upholstery before Negan's there, pressing at your entrance, and wiping your head clean like a slate.

“Fucking _fuck_ ,” he sighed, once he'd bottomed out. You lowly keened as he slowly stretched your walls, feeling every vein and ridge as he rode you. “That’s it, baby. Move with me. Show me how you liked to be fucked. Quick and dirty, then I promise I’ll make love to you like you deserve.”

Oh, yeah. That reminds you...

“I love you, Negan,” You said, the same time he said, “I love you, sweetheart.” 

He rolled his hips forward, shifting a leg over his shoulder so that the broad head of his cock nudged a wonderful spot inside you. “You’re mine. Every gorgeous inch of skin, every freckle, and smile,” he promised.

“Yours.”

Never had a word held such emotion, a simple slip of the tongue sealing your fate.

The force of his thrusts sent the couch moving as the wet glide of your bodies against one another pushed you both into a frenzied coupling. There was a tortuous need to scream in completion, and that frustration only added to the tension. In a flurry of limbs, Negan shifted. A knee firmly planted on the couch cushion, the other leg gaining purchase on the carpeted floor. He practically folded you in half, short, choppy thrusts pulling you over the edge.

And it’s the best sex you’ve ever had, the only exception being that Negan forgets to pull out — but, hey, that’s life.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been so sick lately so i apologize for the short chapter. it's all i have at the moment. x

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Airing out the room. It smells like sex in here,” You said, fumbling with the window latch. “Why’d you pick such a late time anyway?”

“I thought Ben would be asleep and we could reschedule,” Negan said casually, not bothering to hide his ulterior motive.

“Well, how’s that working for you?” You threw a dubious look in Ben’s direction. He was contently nibbling on his hands and not looking the least bit tired. 

Negan reached for Ben’s discarded sock, tugging it back onto his foot. “You’re sister’s asleep. Why aren’t you, chunky?” He lifted the baby above his head, playfully nibbling on Ben’s leg rolls much to the baby's delight. 

You were so in awe of him. The strength and patience he possessed and how he loved your son like his own. To you, the words ' _I love you'_  barely described that overwhelming feeling in your chest, so deep that it touched the depths of your soul.

“Thank you, Negan.” They both gave you a quizzical look, pausing their game. “For taking care of our family and being a father to Benny," You clarified. "I know that Lucille would be so proud of you."

Negan walked towards you, wrapping you in a gentle, yet fierce hug. You returned it tenfold. “I love you, Y/N. That won’t ever change. Hell, you’re stuck with me.” 

You kissed him, whispering, "That doesn't sound so bad." 

Ben softly whined, patting both of your faces when it was clear that the attention wasn’t on him anymore. “Papa loves you, Benny, and I’m not gon’a let some asshole take you from your mama and me,” Negan told him, making a show of smacking a big ol’ kiss on the baby’s cheek. 

“You’re just eating up all this attention, aren’t you?” You cooed to Ben, not able to resist showering him with kisses too. You pulled away. “Seriously, Negan. Thank you.”

“Seriously, sweetheart. Shut up.” He leaned forward, pressing one last kiss to your forehead as a knock at the door sounded.

“Not even an hour married and I’m already contemplating divorce.” 

“You love me,” he scoffed. 

The sight of Arat and Simon alongside a very nervous looking Gavin greeted you at the door, and you stepped aside, allowing them to pass. “Is this necessary?” You asked.

“This is Negan we’re talking about,” Arat simple said, taking a stand behind Negan who’d made himself comfortable on the couch. Simon took a similar position, standing ominously behind Gavin’s seated form, a hand on his gun belt.

Well, this was lovely. 

You sat beside Negan on the couch, crossing your legs and fidgeting with your shirt. “Would you like a glass of water, Gavin?”

“No, thank you,” he declined quietly, eyes solely trained on Ben in Negan’s lap. “Why’d you name him Ben?”

Ben looked up upon hearing his name, eyes briefly taking in the stranger before turning his attention to the button on Negan’s shirt. The entire room was solely concentrated on the baby's actions, and you were grateful that Ben was oblivious to the growing tension that hung heavy in the air. 

“It’s, uh, from that Elton John song,  _Benny and the Jets,”_ You answered, resting a hand on Negan’s shoulder in an attempt to soothe him. 

He nodded once. “Can I hold him now?” 

“Not so fast,” Negan interrupted. “There are rules when it comes to being around my son, and I’d like to make them apparent.” He raised a single finger when Gavin tried to speak. “I don’t give a shit what you have to say—”

“—shish!” Benny shouted.

“Like father like son, huh?” Negan grinned, but it was barely a quirk of his lips. “ _My_ son — circumstances be damned. Life’s unfair, and you get that. Right, Gavin?”

“Yes, sir. I do,” he said quietly.

“You have no parental rights. No control. Fuck up once, and you never see Ben again. Is that clear?” Negan rose, coming to sit beside him once he'd agreed. 

There was an undeniable eagerness on Gavin’s face as he took Benny into his arms. It overshadowed the hurt, and for that, you were grateful. “Hi, Benny. You have your grandmother’s eyes. Her name was Mabel, and I know she would have loved you…” 

It didn’t escape your attention how Negan shifted restlessly, his arms vacant and heavy, and when Benny reached for him seconds later, crying out and moving restlessly in Gavin’s arms, how his face glowed with the light of a thousand setting suns. 

Later that night in bed, and with both babies fast asleep and tucked against his chest, there’s an overwhelming urge to let him know. “You’re good at this,” You whispered. 

His eyes lazily found yours, hooded and soft from sleep and love. “What?” he yawned. 

“Being a father, you make it look so goddamn beautiful.”

The admission came hushed. "I have this constant fear of failing them." 

"You won't."


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, there's brief angst.

**Two months later…**

“…and to think you would have learned your lesson the first time,” Arat said, passing you the pregnancy test.

“I guess I didn't,” You said, sheepishly taking it.

“Didn’t you say twins run in your family?” 

She outright laughed when you grimaced, picturing yourself juggling four infants at once because yes, they do.

Two babies were manageable. 

Three? Okay — the more, the merrier. 

Four? Jesus Christ. You were punishing yourself at that point.

“I might need to tie my tubes.” You left the bathroom door cracked, continuing the conversation as you fumbled with the package. 

“How are things with Gavin?” she asked, thankfully changing the subject.

“He’s been so patient with me while I try to wrap my head around everything. The other day he bought Benny a teddy bear and even a doll for Clem. It's actually Negan who's the problem. He's always cutting the visits short and threating to bash Gavin's head in. You know, he burnt both of the toys. It took hours for the kids to settle that night.”

“He has a right to be wary. You haven’t known Gavin for long.”

“I’m aware of that.” You pulled down your pants, willing yourself to pee. “But I owe Gavin the benefit of the doubt.”

There was a knock at the door.

“Finally, I’m starving,” Arat said, moving away from the bathroom to get the door, and what was presumably lunch.

“Can you check on the kids, please? They should be up from their nap soon,” You called out, thanking her and flushing the toilet.

You placed the pregnancy test upside down on the bathroom sink, nibbling your lip. 

A baby. 

There's that familiar feeling of nervousness that comes with waiting for the results, but unlike the last time, there's excitement instead of dread.  

A new family member. How would you even tell Negan? You hadn't used protection once since the first time. Surely he was expecting—

You flinched, torn from your thoughts by the sound of the front door violently reverberating against the door frame. The noise was misplaced in the usually quiet setting, and when neither of the babies cried out, your maternal instincts had you slowly tiptoeing towards the bathroom door. Through the small sliver of space that the partially opened door allowed, the outline of a familiar figure, holding a pillow above the crib appeared. 

You propelled yourself through the door without a second thought, pulling Tanya away from the crib, and at the same time, Clementine sucked in a lungful of air, her piercing cry echoing throughout the spacious room. 

You’d only spared a glance in the direction of Arat’s unconscious form, but it was enough for Tanya to get in a good hit. Pain blossomed beneath your left eye, and you punched her square in the jaw. 

She stumbled backward, catching herself. The expression on her face slightly concerned you. There was an unmistakable look of determination, and you feared that this would come to a bloody end for either of you.

“Why, Tanya?” You asked, looking around for anything, something to stop her.

She gingerly touched her bloody lip, her gaze shifting from between you and the crib. “You and that stupid brat ruined everything. Did you think I was going to let you have it all? The kids? The husband? The perfect family? Nobody gets there happily ever after, and certainly not you."

"You're going to punish an innocent child?" A car engine sounded in the distance, and you just knew. “Benny?” You gasped, dread filling your belly like cement.

"You'll never find him," she said grinning.

The tension coiled in your stomach, and you propelled yourself forward, entangling your hand in the hairs at the nape of her neck. Your rage and anguish consumed you, and you embraced it, slamming her head into the metal of the bed frame. Tanya struggled, putting up a good fight, but you were coasting on your adrenaline, bringing her head again and again against the metal until she became lax beneath your grip, and your hands were a bloody mess. 

You checked on Clementine, and she seemed fine, all things considered, so you went for the gun Negan kept in his bedside drawer.

"I'm going to get your brother, munchkin," You assured her before leaving, passing other unconscious bodies in the hallway and the adjacent stairwell.

You’d never ran so fast, but the idea that Gavin, of all people, had taken your baby pushed you to your limits. Tumbling through a side entrance, you made a b-line for the gate which was slowly opening for a pickup truck; and with nothing but instincts and an undeniable gut feeling, you vaulted head-on, drawing the gun and firing off several shots into the direction of the tires.  

“Stop!” You yelled, the word falling on deaf ears amongst the chaos you’d caused when you’d fired off several bullets. There were currently several Saviors with their weapons trained on you, but you never once faltered in your steps.

“Put your guns down!” Negan barked out, breaking through the line of men. “Y/N?”

“Ben’s missing!” You screamed, pushing past him to search the bed of the now idle truck. 

Negan’s demeanor hardened, and he wrenched the car door open, pulling Michael from the vehicle. 

Simon quickly stepped forward, attempting to play the voice of reason. “Y/N, Gavin’s not here. It’s just Michael,” he said. 

Michael scrambled to his feet, hands raised. “I’m just taking a shipment of clothes to the Satellite Outpost.”

“He has to be here.” You were frantic, and insistent, climbing into the bed of the truck. “I’m sure of it.”

“Y/N, let me,” Negan said, looking you once in the eyes before shifting through the bags. “I don’t see anything,” he said after a moment.

“He wouldn’t be anywhere else!” You cried, looking to Simon. “Where’s Gavin?”

“He left for the outpost ‘bout fifteen minutes ago,” he answered. “Y/N, calm down. Tell me what happened. Where’s Arat?”

Negan reached for a small chest that had been buried beneath bags of clothes, moving to dump it over the side of the truck when he hesitated, undoing the latch. “Holy fuck,” he breathed, reaching for the infant. 

You sobbed relief, barely managing to get the entire story out between cries. “I left the bathroom, and Tanya had a pillow over Clementine’s head, and Ben was gone—”

Negan bounded off the truck, heading towards the factory with an unconscious Ben in hand, shouting to throw Michael in a cell. You hastily followed, Simon trailing after with a mild look of concern. 

* * *

“You shot her?” Simon asked upon entering the bedroom. 

The plush rug that carpeted the majority of the room was now adorned with a rust-colored stain. 

“No, that was me. She tried to make a run for it after Y/N bashed her head in,” Arat huffed, blood spilling from a nasty head wound. She held Clementine in her hands, and the baby strained in her grip once she noticed her father.

Uncharecticaly, Negan ignored her.

His eyes, slow and calculative, swept the room. He's quiet, but there's tension in his bones like a spring coiling. “Y/N, take the kids,” he said, passing you Ben. “Arat, get Carson.”

"I'll talk to the guys in the hall and get their account," Simon inputted. 

“Negan?” You asked.  

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and in the next moment, he was gone.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's wrap things up!

**Hours later, in the Sanctuary basement…**

“You fucked up,” Simon said, assessing the three kneeling figures. “I’ve seen Negan pissed on the daily. Outraged? Yes. Pissed? It's a given. But this, well, I’ve never seen him this…quiet. And I’m not saying that for your benefit, either.”

Silence.

“I don’t know what possessed you to do something so goddamn stupid, Tanya. His kid? I knew you were a self-centered bitch, but this takes the cake. And you—” He pointed to Gavin. “Do you know how long it's going to take me to replace you. How much goddamn paperwork I have to do since you decided to be a selfish fuck and try to kidnap their son — who, I might add — you will never see again.”

He stepped forward, smacking Michael across the head. “And you’re just full of toxic masculinity, aren’t you? Can’t take ‘ _no_ ’ for a fucking answer?”

They’d been watching him pace as he rebuked them, but soft singing had begun to approach from the distance, and the air in the basement became distinctively colder. 

_Hush little baby, don’t you cry_

_Daddy’s gon’a make sure that asshole dies,_

_And if that asshole doesn’t beg_

_Daddy’s gon’a decapitate his head_

"He's here," Simon whistled. 

“Well, If it isn’t dumb, dumbass, and dumbfuck," Negan said, stepping into the dim lighting. “I apologize for the wait. I had to find an old friend.”

He raised a freshly polished Lucille above his head and swung without another word.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> …and they lived happily ever after, duh!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading. x

“Negan?” You asked when the sound of the front door softly closing woke you. "Is that you?"

“It’s me, sweetheart,” he assured you. 

He’d left hours ago, and although you’d tried your best to stay awake, adrenaline had left your body weak and wary. You’d fell asleep with your babies curled protectively against your chest, and a gun beneath your pillow.

“How are the kids?” he asked, kneeling beside the bed.

“They'll be fine,” You said, hesitating. There were so many things you wanted to say, but as it was, they weren’t what should be said. “You’re so quiet, and in your head. Where are you?”

“I’m right here.”

“Breathe,” You insisted. “Breathe and be here with me. You’re detaching yourself from us.”

He followed as you instructed, albeit reluctantly, and the tension slowly bled from his body as the minutes passed, his head falling forward to rest on the meat of your thigh. You softly ran your hand through his hair, waiting.

“Better?” You asked

“Better.” He drew in another breath. "I could have lost everything today, and that made me realize that I’m not supposed to have the wife, the kids. There isn’t supposed to be a happy ending for me.”

“Negan, none of this should be possible, but it is.” You smiled. “So deal with it. What happened today was terrifying, and yes, there’s a lot to be done to fix the wrongs, and I’m scared, and you’re scared too — but let's be scared tomorrow. Together.”

“I love you, Y/N.” 

“Your family loves you too, and we demand that you come and cuddle us. We can worry about the world tomorrow.” You gently patted the empty spot on the other side of the sleeping infants. 

His spot.

“Alright,” he said, leaning in for a kiss. “Let me just use the bathroom.”

You'd meant every word. The world would still be outside your bedroom door tomorrow. What mattered most was the people in this room, and if at the end of the night you could still cuddle them close, well, then you’d count that as a little victory.

“Y/N, what the hell is this?!” Negan asked.

He exited the bathroom, holding up a positive pregnancy test.

**Author's Note:**

> leave a comment or a kudo, love to hear what you think. x


End file.
